KHCoM Puppet
by Eight-Thirteen
Summary: Features Vexen, Riku Replica, Marluxia, Axel, and the other Castle Oblivion occupants to some degree. Extrapolates upon the Organization 13 centric events occurring in Chain of Memories, and is for serious and lighthearted Kingdom Hearts enthusiasts alike
1. Chapter 1

This is for those looking for intellectual enjoyment as well as an entertaining read. I hope I can provide for either. .

There is no Yaoi, although there is realistic violence and non-sexual male/male themes. This chapter is relatively safe to read, although later chapters may get slightly more mature.

A brief word of caution: This story starts out a little roughly, and I'm still trying to work out the kinks in the opening paragraphs. The flow becomes MUCH smoother after about the first page and keeps that pace throughout. .

Visit http://8-13. for our other non-fanfiction works.

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As the first faint breaths of air broke through the silence, something about the atmosphere of the room seemed to change. In that moment, the temperature regulation system turned on, pumping renewed and icy freshness into the stagnant laboratory, as the corner sink suddenly started dripping onto forgotten beakers and pipettes. Up above, one of the newly installed light bulbs flickered and died, its instrumental hours of life fading into black. It was as if the entire room was greeting the new inhabitant, darkness creeping in to show a welcome as time suddenly sprung back to its flow.

The sudden change was also annoying. Those light bulbs were meant to last forever.

Regardless, however, of the reason, the unexpected twilight set the proper mood for the frankensteinien experiment. It was now to a murky gloom that the semi-naked creature first blinked and opened its eyes, staring up into the artificial dusk before coming to settle upon a ragged, half-starved Vexen.

"I know you." The creature spoke, and the scientist smirked. His experiment seemed a success, and on the first try--a rare enough occurrence for this field of study. With all of the delicate intricacies involved in the construction of any heart, it was a miracle that there had been no complications thus far. That is, if he had been the sort of person to believe in miracles.

"Of course you do. We met in the lower halls not that long ago. Don't you remember?" A single eyebrow rose on the scientist's face, carefully, testing out the waters. A slender shafted pen was held tightly in his hand, poised for action.

"Yeah. You...I fought you!" It tried to sit up, and Vexen watched as the creature's blue-green eyes widened in the shock of finding itself completely deprived of energy. Struggling, it held out for a few seconds in its weakened state, until its limbs faltered. In mere moments, his experiment was laying prone on the cold lab table, once again.

The creature--a boy, silver-haired and lean-muscled, covered in blue and red ridges and emblemed almost as if he were an artificial heartless--was a spectacular specimen, a clone comprised of superior components to its original. Vexen had never duplicated a fully intact heart before, but the mechanics of it seemed simple enough to him by now, what with as many heartless as they had grown back in Radiant Garden. If his suspicions were correct, then in copying the intruder's self...in copying Riku's heart and body, the creature should possess a good number of Riku's memories as well. Its soul, on the other hand...

Well, that was something the scientist intended to study. Certainly the boy before him could not have a copy of the original's soul - although given how far Vexen had come in his cloning experiments, perhaps anything was possible. This was completely new territory, and it was he that had the pleasure of breaking the ground--as much pleasure as he could obtain from it, at any rate.

"Why can't I move...what have you done to me?"

The creature's eyes narrowed at Vexen, uncertain spite forming behind them. It definitely had personality, if nothing else. And it didn't seem to be lacking in any of the standard psychological functions--so far. The scientist's hand was ready to take careful notes--eager for it--yet the pen remained still, almost as if it were afraid to touch the paper and disturb the reality of the moment by condensing it to facts. Beyond all previous experiments, this one was fascinating.

Heartless had been creatures of reaction; they would respond to various stimuli in often predictable ways, and, much like chemicals forming in a test tube, the results had been quantifyable and easily recorded. Even in dealings with the psychology of human beings, the notes he took were mere qualitative extensions of his thought, and his pen would fly almost faster than his mind could compose. Yet with this...

Vexen could feel a tightening in his chest where his heart ought to be. His inconveniently persistent senses were reminding him that moments such as these should be thrilling. The experiment was a success; it was functioning and reasoning and glaring at him with all the gusto of an annoyed young man who had gone too long without whacking someone over the head. For once it was simply...hard...to distance the situation enough to write anything down.

"I have not done anything to you to cause you not to move, nor have I any care whether or not you do. As must be evident, you are not even strapped down. The most likely cause is that you are simply out of energy, seeing as that I've not yet given you any sustenance."

"Great. So you're starving me."

"I did not say..."

"Didn't I win the fight against you?"

Vexen blinked, carefully, put off by the interruption, but curious enough to continue the line of thought and test out how far this replica's memory extended.

"Yes..." He began. "But after that, what do you remember?"

Concentration, and then worry, quickly replaced the annoyance on the boy's face. "You left, and then...nothing." He growled in frustration. "...how did I end up here?"

"How indeed." Vexen let the conversation trail off into silence, letting the young creature muse upon its situation and surroundings. The room had grown darker, if that were possible, and in the sudden quiet, Vexen was becoming acutely more aware of his aching, overworked muscles and his exhausted brain. This experiment had consumed him from its conception, and he remained almost blissfully unaware of how long it had been since he had slept. Days, possibly. The dozens of pages of paperwork still lay strewn about the other tables, waiting patiently for him to come organize and add them to his ever-expanding journal. The test tube he had knocked over long ago still was in pieces on the concrete floor, but not one Dusk was to be allowed in for cleaning until there was nothing for it to possibly disturb.

"...where am I?" A question finally ended the silence, pulling Vexen back from his mental offshoot. With some mild discomfort, the scientist realized that he had started to fall asleep, slumping slowly back into his chair instead of conveying the perfect posture on which he had prided himself back at Ansem's residence. "Is this still Castle Oblivion?" The boy was looking away from Vexen, quietly examining the room. "...and am I some sort of prisoner?"

"No. It's better than that." Straightening up once more, Vexen leaned forward, his clipboard clattering off his lap where it had been forgotten. The noise startled them both, but the scientist covered his surprise with a wry smirk as his creature looked back towards him. "Would you like something to drink? I was about to brew a cup of tea. There are biscuits too, if I'm not mistaken."

"I don't get it. Answer some of my questions, already!" The annoyance was back in its voice, in its eyes, and the boy looked ready to leap up and head out regardless of its current physical capability. Perhaps he would even try to rid himself of his captor, although this boy in particular was less willing to kill on purpose than that friend his original had been trailing. Riku's own experiences with the Dark seemed to have made him more careful in judging others for their supposed crimes. He had doubtlessly learned that to be in darkness didn't mean that one was against the light. Which meant he had intelligence.

Vexen stood up, took one step forward, and gazed down at the young creature from above. Carefully, he removed one slender leather glove, and set it on the table next to a ridged arm. "I think it's more rewarding if you realize for yourself."

The scientist did not consider himself a cruel man. As one of the thirteen members of the Organization, he wasn't quite sure he was even capable of it. It was for purely scientific reasons, therefore, that he decided to attempt his first experiment now on his newest creation. He wasn't yet sure, after all, how his obedience programming would work on something that was not a heartless.

"...what are you say--"

And then the replica was silenced with a sharp intake of breath as Vexen simply placed a hand on its arm. The scientist could feel the young man literally shiver beneath his fingers, and its head quickly turned away as if it were trying to distance itself as much as possible from Vexen despite its inability to move. After a moment, however, of the icy touch lingering on its bare whatever-it-was-that-passed-for-skin, the creature looked back up, its eyes completely lost to confusion.

"You're cold." He whispered. "...but that's...not...really the surprising thing." Biting his lip, the Riku-clone swallowed, his vision darting back and forth in an indecision of whether to look at the man standing next to him or away, his pride warring with his fear. By the way the boy's motions were betraying him, Vexen suspected his new creation was starting to understand where it had come from. In fact, he was certain of that. There was not one part of the clone before him that Vexen hadn't brought into being with his _own_ hard work. His determination, his sweat, his blood...

And what the replica's brain did not comprehend...what his memories could not account for, was how his heart responded to that single moment of contact. Every cell in his body was conditioned to know the touch of its creator, even if he did not yet quite fully comprehend why. And that lack of comprehension scared him.

"Let go of me."

Vexen chortled softly underneath his breath, and took his hand away. "As you wish."

Slyly, he added: "For now."

"What, are you going to touch me often?" The boy shuddered. "I won't put up with it."

A look of great distaste found its way onto Vexen's features as his mouth twisted into a scowl. "Don't mistake me! I only meant that I will let you have your way for now, and nothing more. I have no desire for contact with you any more than you'd wish it with a moldy piece of bread." He huffed, indignant that the creature would even _conceive_ of such a notion. "I will take samples of your blood later to be certain that it still remains correctly balanced, and I intent to perform other tests to prevent your changed heart from slipping too far into the Dark, but I will do all of that with my gloves on if you please."

His experiment didn't seem entirely sure what to make of the tirade, but Vexen noticed a bit of a smirk curling the corner's of the boy's lips. Doubtless something about it had been amusing to him. It wouldn't be the first time his notions had been laughed at, and it only made his frown deepen more.

"As for your normal routine, you may try to run if you wish but seeing as that you are irrevocably _mine_ you will likely find that it is impossible to hide from me. Dinner will be served at eight o'clock on Basement Level One daily, but any other victuals will be up to you to scavenge from the kitchen. Beyond that you are free to roam wherever you desire, although I would suggest you avoid the upper levels whenever you can as they tend to be a bit floral. _Someone_ has been redecorating." Another scowl, although Vexen refused to give such a certain someone enough thought to even allow a name.

"I'm not yours."

Was the creature's only, stubborn reply.

"Of course you are." Eyes narrowed in equal stubborn-ness. "I made you."

"Yeah, well your mother made you, and I don't see you letting her stick needles where they aren't wanted."

Vexen, for once, found himself at a loss for words.

"...I'll find your tomorrow morning at ten." He spoke, finally, and turned away from the young man.

"If you want any of your energy back, I suggest you get a good night's sleep and avoid trying anything stupid."

There was nothing more to add, and so, without further flourish, Vexen headed for the door, leaving the boy to come to his own conclusions.

Once he felt the familiar coolness of his chambers, the scientist allowed himself to finally relax. The more that he learned about his replica, the more that one pleasant fact about his previous heartless experiments was becoming evidently clear: Heartless might have been boringly instinctive...but at least they didn't talk back.

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Riku didn't try to run that first night, despite discomfort, hunger, sleeplessness, and a general unrelenting boredom. But the reasoning behind his staying was not due to comfort, by any means, but because there were still too many questions left unanswered. If he ran now, who knew when those would come back into play. The almost-gaunt, hollow-eyed man who had greeted him on awaking had frightened him, amused him, and piqued his curiosity beyond levels it was supposed to go to, but he had not satisfied him with any solution worth risking an escape for.

That was the most annoying part of all.

Mostly because he didn't...no, he couldn't believe the cold scientist's claims. Or, at least, what he thought the scientist was claiming.

But he couldn't forget the crazy ideas that had entered into his mind at the man's touch, either. Riku shuddered.

It was humiliating enough to be captured, to be laid out on a bare metal table, and to have to listen to some lunatic with strange ulterior motives going on about concepts that weren't fully explained, but then to suddenly find himself being touched, and, what's worse...being betrayed by his body into wanting more of that touch...

Riku growled in frustration, and went to roll over on his side. He felt strange, and the wretched taste of Darkness had been souring his senses since awakening. It was everywhere in the room, it seemed, moving around him and moving through him and calling out to him...

But he was used to ignoring it, and now should have been no different. Curling his fingers, he moved slowly to bring an arm up underneath his head, frustrated at how even this simple of a motion sent shuddering protests up and down his body, like he had never moved before.

Yet the flash of red as his hand passed by in the dark quickly surpassed the discomfort in his mind, and he frowned.

_No...damn this. It can't be...why would I be able to stay like this so long...?_

His wiggling fingers in front of his own face confirmed it, however. Riku was definitely in the dark half of his physical self, and didn't seem about to switch back anytime soon. He tried to move his toes only to encounter the familiar heavy weight of ridged boots. Maybe if he concentrated, he could switch back...maybe...

But as soon as Riku closed his eyes, it was apparent how drained he actually was. Sleep was clawing at him like a ravenous animal, dragging at his eyelids and roaring in his head. If he was this lacking in energy, then he should have dropped out of his dark form long ago...

Except, suddenly, he was waking to the moist smell of orange and ginger.

In the corner of the room, his captor had taken residence at a half-cleared laboratory table, heating up a pot of water on a Bunsen burner while he appeared to write and sip a cup of tea. The dim murkiness that had been present earlier had been replaced by a suitable amount of lighting from a brand new bulb, but that was the only change in atmosphere. Riku was still laying on the table...and he was _freezing._

Desperately trying not to let his teeth chatter, he slowly gathered the strength to sit up. His rest had given him a very small amount of renewed strength, although it disturbed him how deeply he must have been sleeping to have missed the scientist coming in and setting up.

And that _smell_...

His mouth was watering. It was almost unbearable, how hungry he found himself, and it was hard not to use what precious energy he had in leaping up and aiming for the unusual pastry sort of dish the man was nibbling on.

"I see you're awake. Did you sleep well?" With an uninterested glance, Riku's captor pulled out another teacup and plate and set them on the other side of the small lab table before he went back to his job.

"No." The pen in the scientist's hand kept scribbling away despite it all, not stopping for a single bite of breakfast nor a single uttered word. "It seems you're a pretty terrible host." At least the man could have given up a _blanket_.

"You're an experiment, not a guest."

"I'm not _either_." Riku started to protest, but was neatly cut off by a sharp laugh from the platinum-blonde.

"...if I really _must_ show you again, I shall. But I certainly don't believe that is necessary. You are not Riku. In fact, if you insist, after breakfast I will show him to you. Now, do come have a seat. I brought you a croissant."

No matter how much he wanted to stay put _just_ to spite his captor, Riku found his body moving almost of its own accord. He couldn't deny that he was starving, and the offer of food was enough to dispel any initial reservations. "Just what do you want from me, anyhow?"

He sat across the table from the man, watching as the Bunsen burner was turned off and steaming warm water was poured into a teacup. With an unceremonious plop, a small cloth bag was dropped into the liquid, and it was passed over along with what passed for an edible breakfast. Riku wasted no time in tearing the food apart.

"I plan on using you to the fullest of your abilities."

"Why?" The simple question was almost forgotten in mid-thought as he finished his croissant and looked around for another. It had been cold and slightly stale, but as far as Riku was concerned, after days of tasting little but Darkness, it was some strange small slice of heaven. Unfortunately, he felt no warmer, and the frozen memory of the metal lab table was still plaguing the muscles on his back.

"Don't you want to find out everything you're capable of?"

The scientist stirred his tea, and paused in writing for a moment to hear the answer.

Riku did not like the sudden corner he was backed into, however. It wasn't up to this mad-jailer to decide his fate. That was his job, and his alone.

"Yeah. I do. In my own way."

"Suit yourself" The response was duly recorded by the scientist, before the next stinger fell. "I can tell you're still refusing to let go of that ridiculous past your heart remembers."

Riku found himself bristling. "My past is not ridiculous! Yeah, I made a lot of mistakes, but that's not stopping me from trying to do the right thing. I'll make amends for what I caused..."

"You don't have to. You're not Riku."

"YES. I AM." His eyes narrowed, and, fueled by croissant, he rose from his seat. "My memories are Riku, my body is Riku...if I decide that I'm Riku, if that is the name that I chose, then I am. No matter what you say."

"Oh, so you plan to track down Sora, and stand before him like that?"

Suddenly, Riku found his anger cooled off, and he collapsed quietly back into his seat. Sora...

Sora wouldn't understand why he was back in this form. Sora...wouldn't trust him, in this form.

Across the table, the scientist's pen was once again flying across the paper. His reaction had become just another portion in the string of information he was sure was being written about him. He hated feeling like an object...hated feeling like a tool that never had a choice...

"I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself. You're only going to make it harder on that heart of yours. It's still susceptible until it's had long enough to adjust to its new conditions. If you worry yourself too much, it's going to kill you. That would be an extreme annoyance for me."

"Might make it a bad day for me, too. Not that you care." Riku rolled his eyes, and sat back down in his chair, reaching for the tea that had been steeping long enough. It felt so strange...to be sitting across from an enemy, sharing tea and pastries.

But the cup was _warm_. The first small bit of pleasure he had felt since...

Well, he didn't want to think about the last thing that had felt nice. The scientist's unwelcome touch had been a fluke, anyhow. Riku had been tired, and his body had been exhausted enough to betray him. That was all.

Nonetheless, the scientist carried on, almost oblivious to Riku's sigh of resignation.

"I don't care, but not for the same reasons _you_ would think of." His captor looked almost amused at him, again, though it was the only emotion he seemed to show. Amusement, or disdain, or...nothing. It was like the guy didn't have any expressions at all, really. Fighting him had been the same way: when he hid behind that shield of his, Riku had found it difficult to gauge what the next move was going to be. The same unreadability was making conversation hell on him, now.

"You're not giving me a lot of credit."

"If you're my tool, what does it matter what credit you receive?"

"Having more information would extend my potential, wouldn't it? So if you intend to 'use me to my full abilities,' you'd want me to be as strong and smart as possible, right?" Riku leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms and observing the man right back even as he knew he was being observed. "The best way to react to a situation is to predict the outcome by knowing all the factors. In _other_ words, stop _hiding_ stuff from me if you expect me to listen to you."

Unexpectedly, his captor looked up from his paper and startling green eyes fixed intrusively on Riku. For a moment, something flashed within his memory. That same stare...that same face, frozen in concentration, watching him, prodding him, pulling him together from hundreds of abstract pieces through science and magic and sheer force of will.

"So you're more than just some mindless warrior who gave himself over to Darkness, aren't you now?" The man's voice came out in a dangerous whisper, full of wariness and curiosity. And all through it, those eyes kept _holding_ him there, like they were stripping his thoughts open with cold precision, searching out the exact sequences they knew could bring Riku to his knees...

Which was something that would not be allowed. Too many times had he been forced into submission by someone more experienced...by someone of immense power wanting to use him. There would not be another.

Hell, he was starting to get used to the feeling.

Except that, for some reason, there was something more to the scientist's gaze than the initial dominating sneer, something that warranted notice. He wasn't simply trying to obtain Riku's obedience...no...he wanted Riku's _cooperation_. Utterly.

"...I am me. Mindless warrior or not. Will you answer my questions yet, Vexen?"

" I see you remember my name." The scientist pondered, leaning back and finally looking away. Riku noticed the vaguest sign of age creeping into the man's face as his frown returned. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, as if the sleep he had gotten the night before had not satisfied him. His hair was hanging limply, clean but lifeless, as if it had seen better days, and better shampoo. But despite all the hints that this man was starting to give in to whatever tired fate he had been given, his voice refused to suggest anything but a strong, cocky, learned tone, with the slightest hint of an accent. "I suppose so. But _only_..." His words stalled, weightily, conveying importance through the immense silence between each one. "If you _believe_ me."

"..."

Riku wasn't certain what to make of that. Or if he _should_ trust this man who seemed ready to break beneath the weight of the world but also ready to step forward and seize it.

"When you're ready, I'll explain whatever you'd like. But tell me this, boy. Say that you stupidly assume you are the only Riku. If this is so, you will need my help to return to your normal form. And if you _aren't_ the only Riku..." His voice trailed off. " Then what happens when you meet your true form?"

Vexen stood, not expecting an answer, and cleared away the remaining dishes, discarding them into the sink.

"...Come. I'll take a little time to show you around."

Still holding the warm teacup between his cold fingers, Riku watched the man head for the doorway. If he was right...if there really was another Riku...then which one of them was real? Did it mean he'd have to forfeit any claims on what remained of the life he had been desperately fighting for? Would Sora then be meant for the other Riku to find and keep watch over like the old days? Would he ever even see Kairi again? The longer he thought on it, the more questions it raised...and there were already more than he could expect Vexen to answer.

The man was standing in the doorway, waiting for him.

It wasn't long afterwards that he followed.

-------

It amazed Vexen, really, that his clone had not yet tried to escape from him. Maybe the Riku-copy believed the scientist's threat that he'd be easily tracked. Likely, there was another reason, and Vexen spent his days trying to work it out. He had countless notes about this experiment, but no empirical data since the boy had not yet given in to allowing blood samples to be taken. Vexen was still a patient man, however, and he bided his time. When the scientist had finally shown the real Riku fighting his way up the basement on the view screen, the copy had simply turned, and walked away.

The truth might hurt, but only to one who still had a heart to be wounded. Vexen continued to pay attention, and waited for the replica to finally understand. It belonged to Vexen, and the sooner it accepted that, the sooner the real experiments could begin. There would only be another two days before the trial period was past, and he could be certain that the creature was strong enough to start being modified without worry of the rejection of its Darkness.

Yet this time, when he stepped into the pitch-black lab and moved to turn on the lights, he realized that something was amiss. The switch refused to activate at his incessant flipping, and the air seemed thicker than it ought to be. The stark lighting from the halls made barely any headway into the darkness, and for a moment the shadows inside almost seemed like they had pale yellow eyes.

"Off with you!" Taking no chances, Vexen hissed at them, moving into his lab and feeling ice instinctively forming at his fingertips. The eyes seemed to take the hint, cringing from the temperature and the incoming light, and faded into nothing.

"Stay in the lower floors where you belong."

It would take an idiot to miss what they were after. There were few creatures at the moment in Castle Oblivion that _had_ hearts, and only one that rested within Vexen's lab. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, but he tried the light switch again just to be sure. Still nothing. Deeper within the room came his clone's steady breathing--he was safe, although Vexen had known there was nothing to fear.

Riku's heart essentially already controlled the lesser denizens of the Darkness. His dopleganger was no different.

But then the breathing faltered, and a soft whimper took its place, pained and short.

Vexen did not wait to hear more. Striding through the darkness, he found himself quickly at the metal slab the replica had come to occupy, his basic analysis equipment at his side. The boy lay there where he had been the night before, but now he seemed in distress, curled up tightly into a ball with his teeth clenched.

"Go _away_." He hissed at Vexen. "I'm _not_ going to let you humiliate me by seeing me like this."

The boy's protests, however, were swiftly broken by a rough cry of pain, and he curled tighter in upon himself. The Darkness gathered around him in thick waves, keeping the light from the door far at bay and circling the young man like carrion birds waiting for the feast. There had only been one other man he had ever seen who the Darkness responded so _consciously_ to, and that man had soon after lost his heart and stolen their master's name.

"As if you'd have any idea what is best for you." The scientist's eyes narrowed, and he reached through the Darkness, parting it with a gloved hand to get to the boy. If he couldn't get a little light, determining what the problem was would be quite difficult.

"What do _you_ care...?! You could just make another one if I broke..."

"Shut up and be still. That would be a lot of work. It will be easier to patch you up..." His glove brushed against rigid flesh, and Vexen realized he felt...nothing. Nothing at all. Because he was _wearing_ a damned glove. Pulling it off, he reached for the heart monitor, and shoved it against the boy's chest.

"Ha...ha...I get it. Too much of an inconvenience to you, and that's all my life is worth. Well, maybe I'd rather die than be your slave or guinea pig."

The monitor beeped in protest, and Vexen's worst concerns blossomed into life.

The extra Darkness he had forced into the replica's heart at its creation was eating away at him. Bit by bit it was consuming the young man. Normal tolerances had already been surpassed, and even if his heart was capable of containing that much Darkness, the boy could still fade if his will was not strong enough. Losing a perfect experiment, in Vexen's present state, would be a blow to his pride that he could not handle -- not in addition to the wound it took at being assigned here...not with everything else in Castle Oblivion that was already going wrong.

The Replica himself had to want his will intact, or it wouldn't just be an experiment that the next morning would find broken.

"It's so cold in here, Vexen." Another whimper, as the boy's voice broke through the scientist's worry. "Is my life always going to be this way? I've got to know. Vexen, you have to tell me: What's the point of living if...it's always in the cold, and always...in the dark? Always _alone_? That Riku...he doesn't know how lucky he really is, to get to keep living for his friends...him and his stupid, stupid friends. The only plus side here on this freezing table is that Ansem is finally leaving me alone. HA. Alone. Well, he can leave me alone in the next life, too. I wonder if it will be this cold..."

He was rambling, now, mumbling more and more about cold and friends and heartless and islands and probably every little secret that Riku's subconscious would want to offload if it thought it was going to die. Ironic that it wasn't even Riku spilling all of Riku's darkest secrets to the man that he likely felt no emotion towards except hate. "...RRiku."

Vexen could literally feel the hurt shudder of the boy in the darkness as he uttered that name. He had never called his experiment by name before. He had never thought to give him a name. "I'm not Riku!"

"RRiku, listen to me." Vexen spoke, softly, and gentler than he ever had in anyone's presence before. Calling him by a name, once more. He set the useless diagnostic monitor down, and reached to feel RRiku's forehead.

"I don't want to listen to anything...anymore. It's calling...and it promises to be gentle, and it promises to be warm. I just...want to be warm..." He whimpered again, his eyes screwed shut...

And suddenly gasped as Vexen's one ungloved hand found its target. The boy _was_ freezing, and shivering...looking suddenly like a lost child trying to find its place in the world and failing. But to his touch, Rriku's eyes opened, and stared up at him, shocked even through all the pain he must have been experiencing.

"...somehow...I thought you'd be freezing, too."

"What rubbish." Vexen whispered, quietly removing his coat and wrapping it around the small, shivering form. "I'm as warm as any living being. It just happens that I can tolerate the cold." RRiku winced as the coat surrounded him, closing his eyes tightly, and then shivered once more, and lay eerily still. Too still.

Backing off in the remembrance of dread, Vexen got the horrid impression that he had somehow just killed the boy, until blue-green eyes blinked back open, and looked quietly up at him.

"...who am I. Really. If I'm not Riku, then...why do I have to have his memories? Why give me back his name?"

Vexen sighed, softly, and turned away.

He had never had to deal with _this_ before...

Children were a whole new line of work, even if this RRiku was not really a child. But test tubes never asked questions, never demanded to know answers that the wisest men had sought after for their entire lives and failed to find.

Suddenly, with that thought in his grasp, Vexen's mind _stirred_.

He had never had to deal with this, it was true. Which meant he had never faced such a challenge. He never had been given such a wonderful opportunity to prove that his sciences could overcome even the greatest odds...that his brain truly was equal to any task. He could _not_ back down, now. Especially when he already had the answers.

"That one is easy, RRiku. If I didn't give you his memories, then you'd always be learning from his same mistakes. Only through the eyes that you have now can you change your life for the better. Just because these memories are not yours, does not make yours any less _valid_. Take his name because...you get the chance to be what he always wanted to be. You have the power to start over, even if it means you have to change what you thought you should be doing. And, if I may say so, you're getting the better half of the bargain."

"...who would want to chase after that stupid Sora, anyhow."

The replica suddenly laughed: a sharp, brittle, almost wavering sound.

"Then what do you want to do, RRiku?"

"I want to..." The boy pulled the coat closer around him, putting up the hood and hiding within the thick Darkness that was still surrounding him. It had changed, so subtly, from a desperate creature ready to feast into a nurturing companion intent only to obey. "I want to find out what I want. I want to define...what is _me_." The boy screwed his eyes shut again, and let what was left of the laughter out in a softer, quietly accepting tone. He was pulling his fate back into his hands, and he wasn't about to let go now.

"I can't let _you_ win, after all. And no way am I going to let the Darkness take me! Why should I be afraid of it..."

He trailed off, and Vexen wanted nothing more than to sigh in relief.

No matter what the replica said, he _had_ just won. His experiment hadn't succumbed to oblivion, he wasn't left a pathetic failure of a man, and suddenly, he had a challenge worthy of his time.

"You shouldn't, because you're better than that. You're more worthy of _RRiku_ than the one who currently bears that name. Maybe you should take it back."

"You made me stronger, didn't you? So, you better show me how to use that strength, alright? I want to win against him. I'm going to prove my right to exist. This time, I'm not going to let anything stand in my way. Not Ansem, not any silly bonds like friendship. So don't hold back. I want to know everything, because...then...I can decide what _I_ like to do."

"Your soul is your own, RRiku." Vexen retreated a ways, the cold air on his skin reminding him that his jacket was no longer comfortably shielding him. Still, after all that, the boy deserved a blanket in reward, and if his coat was all he had to give then so be it. "All it needed was a name."

-----

It suddenly had become a game to stalk what RRriku liked to think of as the 'Real Thing.' He still remembered very clearly how he had fought his way up from the first few levels, and what Ansem had said to him about the Darkness, and about his heart. Even Maleficent's words still haunted him. But now he could watch from afar the way that his old self stumbled onwards in desperation and pursuit, fighting dangerously for control of his heart even as fear continued to grip him. Hell, he could sip tea and _laugh_ remembering that not so very long ago, that had been him.

Other memories did not hold so well, however, when his heart simply didn't care anymore. He let thoughts of returning to the island slip from his mind, and dropped thinking about silly ideals of friendships that only held some sort of obligation, or some weary promise. Why should he bother to care, after all? It wasn't _him_ that Sora wanted to laugh and run and rough-house on the beach with. It wasn't _him_ that Kairi wanted to see back home.

The one thing, perhaps, he didn't forget about was the Darkness. He remembered how dependant he had been on it, when he first gave in to its alluring call. He also remembered how it felt to be consumed by it, to be wrapped up in it, to be in full command one moment and betrayed the next...

But it did not cause him fear.

Instead, it became a newfound drive for him. The Darkness _could_ chose to abandon him, or try to devour him, but when he was at his strongest it never failed to listen to him. Without a doubt, if he could surpass the real Riku, he would have no reason to fear the Darkness, because it would mean his will was strong enough to overpower any challenge. _He_ would be the one who had the right to exist.

It really didn't matter what became of the real Riku, then. He certainly didn't entertain any notions of taking Riku's life back as his own, because, honestly, it would be too ungratifying to track down Sora and return to what was normal and boring. It wasn't as if he found any lust for adventure like his old self had, back on the island, but he was driven by curiosity, nonetheless. His body and heart might have been roughly the same as Riku's, but he had his own soul. He was sure of it. And his soul had its own desires and its own fears and its own _destiny_. He wanted to know everything, to start out with. To formulate his own experiences and make his own new memories to replace the false ones he had inside. And then, after that, who knew. Maybe by then he'd know what he wanted to do with his life.

"Come here, RRiku. I want to take a blood sample."

Vexen had refused him breakfast that morning to get accurate readings, but in recompense had handed over a pillow to accompany the dark mass that used to be a coat. Having been unable to locate any extra blankets, Vexen had merely narrowed his eyes in thought, let the situation be, and shown up promptly the next morning in a new garment of the same caliber.

Strangely enough, RRiku had no protests about his makeshift bed. It wasn't comfortable, but the scientist at least had allowed the heat to be turned on briefly in his isolated laboratory, and so the worst he experienced was a mild soreness in whatever muscles he was unlucky enough to turn onto. The coat...was almost a different matter. RRiku struggled back and forth about it, half wanting to refuse it outright and half wanting to sleep _on_ it, and then had surprised himself entirely by curling up in it unconsciously every evening. His body continued to betray him at every turn, when he least expected it, but if the faint traces of Vexen's scent across worn leather were going to help him sleep better in his harsh environment, then there was nothing that could be done.

So it was that when a Dusk had finally appeared with a real blanket, RRiku had refused. He was in this more deeply than even he had realized, until trying to let the garment go and failing. There would be no denying that he _was_ Vexen's, now. Not without leaving the castle.

And that time would come, soon enough.

After he challenged the real Riku, and after he won, then he'd be off faster than a greased cat on a marble slide.

But while he could, he was going to milk the scientist for every last advantage he could get.

"You can take a blood sample, if you let me fight you this afternoon."

Vexen was quick to protest. "You're the experiment, and I'm the scientist. We shouldn't be making _bargains_. You should be standing still and I should be injecting things into you and writing long paragraphs about the particular way you squirm."

But RRiku was already learning how to push and pull. "How about writing paragraphs about whether I last as long in a fight as the Real Thing does. You still haven't gotten to test my stamina..." The scientist had particular ways he liked doing things, and a particular order in which his procedures should take place. However, RRiku had noticed that he didn't like having to force his subject into obeying, and that he craved a good debate now and then.

"You come here, and do exactly as I say for the next hour with no protest, and I'll fight with you once you've recovered." Vexen smirked. "But then you're going to let me poke and prod you later if your stamina is not up to par. Fair enough?"

And just like that, the scientist had provided him with another challenge.

"If I'm really good, do I get a bed-time story, too?"

"Only if I don't have to _read_ it to you. You are _literate_ at least, aren't you? One can never tell what comes out of those barbaric worlds these days..."

"I was kidding, Vexen. But I'd like to see what's in that journal you keep writing about me."

"_That_ will have to wait until you win." Vexen seemed smug, certain of his own abilities, tapping his fingers on the table while he waited for RRiku to finalize their routine. Where he got the extra energy to also be impatiently tapping his foot, RRiku wasn't certain...but then again, the scientist _did_ seem younger when he thought he was gaining the upper hand.

"Then you'd better get ready, old man. I want to see those journals tonight."

"Only if hell freezes over."

"Sometimes, Vexen, I wonder if that isn't exactly what you intend to do."

"If I have a notebook when I get to hell, you can be the first to see my thesis about improving its conditions."

"Guess then I'd better learn how to read."

The look on Vexen's face was more than worth the joke.

"Kidding, Vexen. I'm kidding."

-----

"You haven't reported in to me in _days_." An overly gentle, deceptively melodic voice greeted Vexen as the scientist stepped, coatless and with a towel around his head, out of the washroom. "What _have_ you been doing?"

Marluxia was waiting, smugly lounging in defiance of the uncomfortable wooden chair he sat in, idly twirling a stray strand of hair around a finger while he scrutinized the clean scientist. His gaze was enough to make the hairs on Vexen's damp neck stand straight on end, and, added to the insult of his personal chambers being unexpectedly breached, caused him to falter in response.

"Gathering data. As it is my _job_ to do."

"Your job is whatever I say it is, Number Four." The flowery leader of Castle Oblivion's small team purred out the words, a smile resting on his face as if nothing was amiss. It was certain that Marluxia enjoyed calling Vexen by his number, lording over the fact that it had been reduced to nothing more than a meaningless numeral away from the World that Never Was. At best, the most that his treasured 'Four' could stand for, here, was a vague chronological placement of when he had lost his heart. After Xaldin, but before Lexaeus.

And _certainly_ far before Marluxia.

"I might have been assigned to this castle, and you might have been assigned to oversee it, but that does not imply that I have to respect you _or_ that I am subject to your beck and call any hour of the day. Now, if you would please remove yourself..."

Vexen headed for his closet, glad that he had never been the type to wander his rooms in only underwear. Being shirtless around _anyone_ was unacceptable, and even if this was the second time that misfortune had befallen him this week, being _pantsless_ would have warranted a swift removal of any intruder. Commander or not.

"Perhaps you do not believe you're one of my valuable subjects, but you have already acknowledged that this castle does belong to me, haven't you?" That plastered smile was still there, on the outside seeming for all the world to be friendly, but beneath embodying more of a fly-trap in wait. The faintest tendrils of some oddly-scented perfume were permeating through Vexen's room as far as his closet, where he was quickly clothing himself in his robe's familiar weight. Without meaning to, he sneezed. It would take days to air out the intrusive scent.

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, Marluxia. And you're implying...?"

He was fumbling with the zipper, annoyed, trying to fit the nub into the pull and blatantly not caring one whiff about anything Marluxia was saying. Whatever his point was, it had better be made quickly so that Vexen could get back to his work.

"That, technically, this is _my_ room, seeing as it is in _my_ castle. Although I did notice the change in its ambiance. Now It actually seems warm enough in here now for living things to survive."

"If I find one blossom, Number Eleven, heaven help it."

"My, my, Vexen, you wouldn't hurt an innocent flower, now would you? I know you have no heart but that doesn't _mean_ you have to be _cruel_, you know."

Marluxia was enjoying this bantering, damn him. Vexen could see it in the subtle way his eyes were lighting up as he watched his prey moving around, in the way that his attentive finger kept right on twirling through his hair like vines curling up a windowsill. Perhaps he got his daily sustenance from making others feel inferior to himself. The scientist wondered for a moment if enjoyment should even be _possible_, but if Marluxia wasn't having a lovely jaunt at Vexen's expense then he was at least putting up a good show of one.

Finally feeling the zipper slide into place, Vexen sealed his jacket with a quick, jerking motion, and spared an unamused glance back to Castle Oblivion's keeper. "What is it you want from me, Marluxia?" Now that he was less exposed, his old confidence was slinking back. There was something about Marluxia he didn't trust, and, no matter what his orders from the _real_ Superior had been, the real Superior wasn't standing here right now in this situation. Vexen would follow orders if he must, but this flowery warrior was going to explain himself, first.

"Surely you've noticed our quarry's presence in the castle. Since _Sora_ is what we are supposed to be focusing on, I'm going to have daily meetings to monitor his progress. Zexion and Lexaeus are exempt, since I have put them in charge of the basement levels. However..._you_, Number Four, are not. I expect to see you this afternoon just before you take your break for tea. And please, Vexen...don't make me come looking for you."

"I'm quite well aware of the consequences." Vexen glared, and motioned towards the door. "Now out."

"If you were aware, you wouldn't be speaking so impolitely to me." But Marluxia stood, and glided slowly back to the entrance, smiling all the way. "After all, we _do_ have the same goals, don't we? I think once you realize your place with us, then we'll get along splendidly."

"We shall see, Number Eleven."

The door closed behind the intruder, and Vexen was left, finally, alone.

-----

RRiku sank into a corner in an unoccupied hallway of Castle Oblivion's basement, trying desperately to catch his breath. Underneath the dark skin of his chest, his heart was beating furiously, and he could still feel the scrapes and small slices up and down his arms, his legs, his torso, where the real Riku had broken through his guard. He had _survived_, and he had even managed to keep his pride in not running away, but his brain was still persistent in reminding him that a defeat was a defeat, no matter how well he managed to retreat from it.

He knew he should return to the lab, report in to Vexen, and let himself be patched up, especially since the state of his heart remained so uncertain. Yet despite the fact that the scientist had claimed RRiku's body ought to be stable from now on, that RRiku had passed the waiting period and was strong enough to face whatever might pursue him, the young replica still didn't trust his own condition. It had wounded his pride too much, laying on that cold table in the Darkness, feeling it eating away at him like a fire made out of ice.

So why was he in this wretched state, now?

Wasn't he supposed to be _stronger_ than the original? Hadn't Vexen promised him that he would be better, faster, and more aware of his surroundings?

It was the Darkness alone that had saved him just now from that killing intent in the real Riku's eyes. To the Real Thing, RRiku didn't deserve to exist. He probably would give more thought to squashing an insect than he seemed to give towards disposing of his double.

Leaning up against the wall, RRiku pulled his knees up to his chest, and rested his chin upon them. Words he remembered the Darkness uttering...words Ansem had spoken to the Real Thing...were drifting back to him now, tormenting him. _A weakling like you couldn't even defeat Sora, and you had Darkness on your side._

And now all the Darkness he could muster didn't begin to stop Riku.

He was at the bottom of the food chain--the last rung of the ladder. There was no way he was going to return back to the labs like this. Not until he had calmed down a little.

He _was_ still new, after all. And he _had_ been taking it easy, to make sure his heart was safe. All he had to do was just give it a little more time, and a lot more effort, and he would be able to defeat Riku for sure.

"Hey. Hey there. Hey, you."

RRiku looked up, suddenly, startled to hear a voice interrupting his internal musings. One of the black-coated Organization members was standing there, one slender eyebrow raised, staring down at him with both hands on his hips.

"I haven't seen a heartless like you before." The man nudged him with a leather boot, and tilted his head. "How'd you get in?"

"Through a test-tube."

RRiku wasn't sure what to think, or how much Vexen had told the others about him, and at this point he didn't really care to know. Whatever Organization XIII was planning, in RRiku's _own_ plans, they mattered little. Once he had all the power that he needed...once he had enough strength to _prove_ to that unfeeling Real Thing that he _did_ have a right to exist, then the Organizers could do whatever they damned well pleased, _without_ him as their pawn.

"...A test-tube..." A long-fingered hand was run through alizarin-hued hair as the man before him pondered the next move. "So you're Vexen's."

"Vexen made me. From Riku's data. But I'm my own."

To that, there was only an amused snort.

"Vexen wouldn't create anything he couldn't control. Though I've never seen a creature like you before. What's your name?"

"RRiku."

"Hm. I'm Axel." The spindly man offered an arm up, and RRiku suddenly found himself back on his feet. "Don't forget it or anything." They both glanced off, an awkward silence forming between them. "So, uh...it was nice to meet you, there, little replica. Oh, hey, is he around, anywhere?"

It was getting hard to tell exactly who this Axel was referring to. Maybe if he would stop wiggling around for a moment...

His hands had gone from his hips to his hair to RRiku and now were crossed in front of his chest as he glanced about. "Or are you trying to run away?"

"I don't run. Vexen doesn't scare me."

"Well, then, that makes two of us." Axel smirked. "If you're _not_ running, what _are_ you doing down here?"

"Existing."

Having no reason to give a complete answer, RRiku said nothing more.

"Hookaay, well, you sure are a cheerful one." The man's damned hands were back in motion, spread out lightly to the sides of him as if to say 'I surrender.' "Drop me a line if you ever, you know, feel like being _interesting_." Axel started to turn, leaving RRiku unable to figure out what to make of him, but then paused and glanced back over his shoulder. "Okay, so maybe you /i are /i interesting. Where did you get all those cuts from?"

RRiku could only wince at the memory of it.

"From a fight I didn't win. There, are you happy?"

"What, happy? Of course not." Axel started laughing. "It's just not possible. But I am curious."

"You must be really damned bored, then."

"I haven't listened to anyone that still had the luxury of emotions in a while."

That statement puzzled RRiku, but he only shook his head. "Why not?"

Both of Axel's eyebrows raised, and he started walking down the hallway, beckoning the boy to follow. "You mean to tell me that even though you're Vexen's playtoy, he hasn't told you?"

"I'm not a playtoy." RRiku glared, but followed. "And what hasn't he told me?"

"All of us black-coats...we don't have hearts. Lost them a while ago, along with all of our emotions. No excitement, no happiness, no love...but no fear, or anger, or hatred, either. We're not living...we're just existing. Kind of like you. And we don't really deserve to do that, either."

"You haven't got a heart...so there is nothing to get in your way."

His body was aching in protest as they moved along towards the far end of the hall, where one of the large white doors was waiting. "But what's to stimulate you into doing _anything_, then? Where do you get your motivation if you have no emotion?"

"You'd be better off asking Vexen this."

"Vexen doesn't talk about himself to me."

"Really? Because he talks everyone else's ears off." Axel scratched his chin thoughtfully. "But I suppose you're right. He's normally talking about his experiments or his theories. Not about what he's feeling or thinks he should be feeling. He'd probably be a lot more fun, if he did."

"But you don't care one way or the other."

"No, not really. I can't!" Axel smirked. "So what about you. Why are _you_ still squeaking by? If you're a copy of someone, what's the point?"

"The point is that I'm already alive, so I might as well keep living."

"You think it is as easy as that, hm? Well, I'm not going to let it be me to tell you otherwise."

He stopped, then, in front of the door, and slid both of his hands in his pockets, staring up at it boredly.

"If it's all the same to you, I'm going to prove my right to live." RRiku had avoided going through the large doors in his time at Castle Oblivion, but it was mostly because he couldn't get them open. Without the cards that his old self had been provided, those ways were shut, and he had been forced into using the Darkness. But that mode of travel was easier, anyhow.

"That's pretty rich, kid. Did you ever stop to think that, just maybe, you don't have a right to live?"

The question stumped RRiku for a moment, and he looked away from the door back to Axel.

"You're sort of like us. Not entirely light, and not entirely dark, and definitely not whole. You can't be your own person, because all the parts of you belong to someone else. Your heart belongs to Riku, and your body, like it or not, is probably wired by Vexen. The only thing you really have left is your soul, and even _it_ is using a borrowed name." The man removed one hand from his pocket, rubbing the back of his head with it. "Guess that makes you worse off than us. We barely exist, and we're using you. Guess you had better hurry up and prove that you've got a life, before someone decides to take it."

RRiku suddenly found a small deck of cards being offered to him, and he looked up in surprise to Axel's smirk.

"...you're giving these to me?"

"No. I'm letting you borrow them. Bring 'em back to me sometime. When you're strong enough. And then I'll tell you if you're ready to be real."

And with that, Axel stalked off, waving over his shoulder.

"Seems you need all the help you can get."

-----

Vexen had watched RRiku leave early that afternoon without a word, knowing the intent of the departure. In a few hours, he would be have a great deal more data on the nature of the heart and how increased exposure to Darkness effected its field performance. He set his viewing monitor to record, and backed away. It would warn him immediately if RRiku was in danger, so that he could retrieve his experiment before irrevocably Losing something he might not be able to reproduce.

And that was all the preparation that he had time for, because, as the 'Lord' of Castle Oblivion had demanded, he was to report for a meeting. Although Vexen wasn't particularly thrilled at the prospect of sitting through some boring set of instructions or scheme bent on capturing a Keyblade bearer, he wasn't ready for any outright mutiny just yet. Not until his _own_ collateral was secure.

If RRiku could win his fight this day, then Vexen would have many, many more uses for him, indeed. A young warrior of Darkness who, under the right circumstances, also proffered Keyblade potential would put Vexen in the favorable position that he had desperately been grasping for ever since he had lost the advantages of the old days.

Back at Ansem's castle, battle skills had been important, but intelligence was prized highest of all, and Even had _excelled_ in that. For him, the loss of his heart had mixed blessings. There were no longer any ridiculous emotions to distract him from pursuing any task night or day, and no obligations towards anyone but a fellow colleague who understood the importance of carrying on research. But there had also come the realization that staying ahead and staying _alive_ as a Nobody required a certain amount of physical prowess that Even simply had _lacked_. In Radiant Garden, he had been competing for head of the pack; in the Organization, he found himself struggling just to be acknowledged.

It was a wound to the memory of pride, and a wound to the part of him that still believed in self. There had always been whispers about Xehanort and his _destiny_, how fate must have brought him to the castle and about how polite he was and yet how strong and smart and good and on, and on, and on. When it should have been _Even_. Didn't _Even_ have a destiny that was just as great? Didn't _Even_ possess just as much brilliance, just as much a likelihood to change the course of their world?

Only now, he was on his way up to see a man that probably didn't have a degree in any sort of science. For all that Vexen knew, the neophyte probably didn't have a degree at _all_, and yet something had prompted Xemnas to give him an edge and let him have power where another..._any_ other, would have done just as well. What made Marluxia so special?

But Vexen would prevail, when it all came down to it. He would weed out Marluxia along with that girl he was using, and expose the strange secrets that the man kept hidden away. He would show Xemnas, one way or another, that their numerical order _did_ stand for something.

After all, if numbers meant nothing, then why did the Superior insist upon Number One?

It was an almost empty room that greeted him when he stepped out of the portal to where Marluxia and his followers normally could be found. The same cloying scent he remembered from earlier met his nostrils upon entry, and he had to restrain himself to prevent another sneeze from coming. His body patiently refused to accept that those without hearts shouldn't have to endure allergies, the same way that it refused to allow him to stop eating or taking showers. The only physical benefit to not officially existing was that time seemed content to let them alone, so that at least when Kingdom Hearts was finally theirs they could still be young enough to enjoy it.

Marluxia was standing alone, by a flower-topped pedestal, a watering can in one hand and a pH strip in the other. Carefully he poured water into the soil surrounding the flowers, and pressed a bare finger to the dirt to make sure it was moist enough.

The pH strip was the surprising part, and Vexen found himself unwilling to yet announce his presence, curious as to what the gardener was going to do. Perhaps he _had_ misjudged the man, if Marluxia knew enough about acids and bases to test the soil.

Marluxia, on the other hand, refused to grant the scientist his obscurity.

"Ah, there you are. I've been waiting."

It became increasingly uncomfortable as Vexen grew aware that there was no one else in the room. "Am I late?" He queried, glancing back behind him to make sure that a pair consisting of an overzealous red-head and uptight blonde weren't poised to corner him. But the space behind him remained empty. "Where is everyone?"

"They left. Both of them came in early, and I saw no reason to keep them waiting when I could just as easily brief you later."

Vexen felt his eyes narrow out of habit, and he folded his arms into his sleeves, perturbed. "The least you could do if you're bothering to waste my time with your meetings is to _hold_ your meetings, Marluxia."

"Shh, Vexen. You should keep your tone of voice pleasant. The flowers don't like it when the air is disturbed by quarreling."

"Then don't put your flowers in a room meant for holding debates! If you're going to be a gardener, dammit, be a bloody gardener, but not while you're trying to run this castle! It's enough that you're barely competent, but if I have to put up with your rude, nonsensical, childish demands then I'm _leaving_. No matter _what_ Xemnas has to say."

"Vexen."

The only warning the scientist had was a brief breath of moist air before he felt the wind knocked out of him and Marluxia's ungloved hands pinning him to the marble wall.

"When I am being the leader of this castle, then I am being the leader of this castle, and I will dictate what is to be done within its walls. But while I am _gardening_ I am _still_ included in the one-unit set of _leader-of-this-castle_, so I suggest you do as I say."

Surprise was still holding him as tightly in its grasp as Marluxia was, and neither seemed willing to relent. But Vexen's hands were both free, and with them he reached forward, calling forth the cold and ice that readily obeyed him.

The gardener could do nothing but gasp as freezing fingers took hold of his midsection, chilling all the way through layers of leather and cloth. Whatever the price was for insubordination, Vexen was willing to risk it to preserve his _dignity_, and to let Marluxia know that he was not going to be played with. Reasonable demands he would listen to, but this had gone beyond reasonable. He was being _attacked_.

His resistance might have met with success, too, if suddenly he didn't feel something rough and prickly wrapping its way around his wrists. Vines browned in protest as they contacted the wintery chill of his magic, but then solidified and pulled tight even as they died twining around him. The very walls were sprouting leaves, stalks, flowers, and thorns. Greens and reds and purples invaded the stark white of the room, and in front of him a haze of pink was smiling in grim satisfaction.

"I can see that you're not taking me seriously, Vexen." Marluxia's hands pushed harder against him, sliding him slowly down the wall and into a bed of grasses and thistles that had sprung up from the floor. "Did you honestly think there wasn't a perfectly logical reason behind my promotion to this state?" The light scent from moments ago had become overpowering--sweet and fragrant and choking and deadly. Vexen was Losing his way inside of it, while trying desperately to stay in charge. His head had to remain clear! If he gave into his body then everything was lost...

But then thorns started poking up on the vines that had entangled him, and hard twigs began pressing into his back. The pink-haired man in front of him was relentless, staring him down with his blue eyes and pushing Vexen hard into the emerging jungle. Suddenly he couldn't breathe anything but the smell of Marluxia, couldn't feel anything but the movement of vines and the sprouting of thorns, couldn't hear anything but the rustle of leaves and ripping of cloth. He could utter no words, create no magic in his defense.

The man who had prided himself upon his mind had lost everything to his overloaded senses, until there was nothing left to do but scream.

And so he did, before everything went black.

-----

Notes: 

December 21, 2006:

Finally uploaded this onto For those coming here from Deviantart, sorry the last half of the chapter got cut off. . At this time Chapter 2 IS complete, and is going through final editing. Chapter 3 has already been started! Looks like this will be about 5 chapters long, possibly more.

I can't even begin to quote all the works of art that have influenced this story to some degree. I'd like to acknowledge 'Sorrow of Magpies,' 'Seven Stories For Fourteen Nobodies,' the art of psycrow and Silvestris on Deviantart, and to some strange extent 'Those Lacking Spines.' Also instrumental in the writing of this has been U-E, for bouncing thoughts around with me in the darkness.

Vexen uses more italics than I realized. x-x To re-format this for I had to Cntl-F all of the i . I hate my life. If anyone catches any that I missed, please do send me a message somehow. Or any other wierd formatting mistakes, for that matter. Helpful commenters often get rewarded. .

Bloopers: 

#1. For some reason, initially, Axel ended up asking RRiku back to his chambers for dinner. I do not know why he did this, as it was not in my story plans whatsoever. They 'chilled' around the fire, ate spaghetti, and told jokes about Vexen. Silly Axel.

#2. 'Greased Cat on a Marble slide.' Why is this in RRiku's vocabulary? Ask Pete. It must have occured while the real Riku was staying with Maleficent. The line was funny enough that it had to stay, despite its odd placement.

#3. RRiku. R-Riku. Riku Replica. Replica Riku. Rriku. The experiment. The creature. The boy. The young man. Riku's clone. Vexen's playtoy. . It would have been EASIER if he actually had a name! ;-;


	2. Chapter 2

This is for those looking for intellectual enjoyment as well as an entertaining read. I hope I can provide for either. .

There is no Yaoi, although there is realistic violence and non-sexual male/male themes. This chapter is less safe than the last, but still nothing graphic. There will never be anything too graphic.

Visit http://8-13. for our other non-fanfiction works.

-----

So...the black-coats didn't have hearts.

Riku dragged his overworked body silently through darkened halls, completely worn out and unwilling to risk using the Darkness to transport him to the lab. In his weakened state, if it decided to turn on him, he'd be a goner. And so he walked, slowly, his left knee giving him trouble, but making his way nonetheless.

He had spent the entire afternoon following his defeat mindlessly fighting the heartless in Hollow Bastion's chambers, slicing and stabbing until his vision started to blur and his arm became too tired to hold the sword. Vexen would be waiting for him, he knew, with a lecture and a hundred questions about the fight with the Real Riku, and he wanted to be able to say that it hadn't gone so badly as it did. He wanted to say that he wasn't as worthless as he suspected that he was.

Even though he knew that would be a lie.

Maybe that's why he had wanted to keep on fighting, even when he knew he was really too tired to go on. Being in the middle of a battle was a distracting relief from his failures. He didn't have to think about who he was, or where he was, or what he was really trying to accomplish. All that was needed was the will to survive, the need to keep existing. The closer to death he came, the greater he would cling to his life. Didn't the fact that he wanted to live _mean_ that he had a right to?

RRiku's hand rested, at long last, on the handle to the laboratory door, and there he slumped into a small pile against its wooden frame. What was he living for again?

Was it merely for the sake of living? Really _just_ for the sake of proving that he was too stubborn to die?

Was there even a point to it?

With a soft sigh, he pulled himself back onto his feet, straightened himself, and opened the door. The inside of the lab was dim, but he could still clearly see the tall figure of the scientist standing at the wash basin, facing away from RRiku. For a brief moment, the vision of his creator standing there was almost a comfort to the replica, before he shook off the idea, and gently closed the door. Castle Oblivion's inhabitants didn't have hearts, no matter how it seemed like they were acting, and that was a phrase he needed to recite over and over to really believe. Vexen wouldn't be _glad_ to see him alive, would never be interested in welcoming him home. Much more likely, the only gift he'd receive from the scientist would be a mile long list of diagnostics and questions for the boy to answer.

"How did it go?"

There, the inquiries had already begun.

"He won. No big deal."

"I would say that is an understatement." Vexen did not turn to face him, quietly working on something that RRiku could not see. "I know how much you want to be a real boy."

"Funny joke, since I'm not a puppet."

"Well, you're not made of wood, at any rate." A soft sigh came from the scientist, and quietly his hands fell to his sides. They were gloveless, RRiku noted, and something wet and black was dripping off of them.

Something wet and black and _thick_.

The scent of blood hit him suddenly even at a distance, and RRiku cringed. He didn't know what was going on, but it didn't look pretty.

"Vexen...?"

RRiku called out, quietly, unafraid but still unwilling to draw closer.

"...oh, can't you let a man work in peace?"

It was freezing in the lab, again, somehow, as if the small comforts the scientist once provided him had been pointedly removed. RRiku wanted to shrink back, and duck out without a word. Nothing seemed right about this situation, and the longer he stayed, the more he sensed a fragrance that he hadn't come in contact before. When Vexen reached out for a tool on the shelf, RRiku almost took the opportunity to slip away, and leave the scientist to his macabre dissections...

But then suddenly, Vexen's hand wasn't reaching--it was shooting towards the wall to catch him as his feet were giving out from under him. At this, RRiku _did_ bolt. Straight for his master.

He tried not to think about that term that had come to him, and simply reacted, somehow appearing where he needed to be, somehow getting his own knees underneath him at the right moment, and somehow managing to break Vexen's fall. They collapsed onto the floor together with RRiku's arms supporting Vexen's waist, holding the older man in his lap. Both of the replica's legs were screaming, threatening muscle burn and over stretching, and finally slipping out from underneath RRiku's kneeling form. But he didn't care right then.

"Vexen...Vexen?"

"...don't look at me." Vexen whispered, harshly, and turned his face away. His head fell briefly onto RRiku's chest, regardless, even as the scientist seemed to be fighting their sudden proximity. Now, for the first time since entering the room, the boy was able to get a good look at what Vexen had been doing.

RRiku had been right. It _wasn't_ pretty.

His heavy leather coat was ripped and slashed in multiple places, leaving everything from bruises to lacerations on the pale white skin beneath. Both of his arms were torn near the wrists, as if they had been caught on barbed wire, and RRiku could spot several thorns and small plant-like spires still imbedded in his chest and shoulders that the scientist had apparently been trying to remove, at the sink. The only thing that appeared to be unmarred was his face, somehow left clean of any scarring, and his hair, which was, at the most, disheveled.

Yet none of it made ANY sense, and RRiku frowned in confusion.

"Who did this to you?"

"Get off of me. I can take care of myself."

Vexen tried to sit up again, and failed, his boots sliding uselessly on cold, blood-wet marble floors.

"Stop it, Vexen. You're not helping anyone." RRiku's voice came out much softer than he had intended. The scientist stopped struggling, slowly, surprised by the tone, and finally let himself slump against the boy with an irritated 'hmph.'

What RRiku could not have expected to happen, however, was how his own body suddenly gave in to relaxing, completely, in the moment that Vexen's head came to a rest upon his naked skin. Unable to support his failing muscles _and_ a heavy scientist, RRiku winced as shoulder-blades collided with the stone-hard wall behind them. He heard an audible crack, and squeezed his eyes shut as a fiery pain shot through him.

"RRiku." Vexen spoke, evenly, and looked up at him. "You should have known better. Now you've made more trouble for the both of us."

The lack of emotion in the older man's voice was a sudden, stark irregularity cutting through RRiku's torment, and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking down at the scientist.

Vexen didn't have a heart. Vexen was incapable of emotion. Vexen could care less about his pain. Another reminder was already due.

Good, then. Lacking a heart also meant Vexen was also incapable of pity. Heh. RRiku already had enough of _that_ for himself.

"And I thought _you_ were having a bad day..." He whispered, softly, his hands tightening around the scientist's middle.

"Let us just say we're both miserable failures and be done with it." Vexen sighed, turning carefully in RRiku's lap to start feeling for where the bone was that had been broken.

And that, finally, was too much for him to handle.

The bare and bloodied hand of the man who had given him life _sliding_ up his ribs and gingerly prodding at his back was a frightening comfort, and completely unbearable. "S...stop, please." He managed to exhale, feeling his control slipping away, and knowing that if he didn't put an end to this touch now he was going to be lost to it, shortly.

But the hand did _not_ stop. It continued in a relentless logic, hunting down the source of pain in the only way it knew how. His creator did not have a heart, did not have pity, and did not have _mercy_ when it came to one of his experiments. RRiku shivered, his back arching against the wall, trying to both escape and welcome the touch in one confusing motion.

"VEXEN. DON'T." There was nothing he could do but gasp, and hope the message would get through.

"I found it."

A wall of pain hit him, once again, as Vexen's searching hands stopped their unknowing conquest of the replica's willpower, ending the unbearable pleasure with opposing agony. His hands tightened reflexively onto the first object they came across, and when he could think straight enough to unclench his fists, it was to find Vexen's hair in one and Vexen's coat in the other.

"Come, now. Together, we can probably stand. But I cannot do it alone." There still was no emotion to the words, and RRiku wondered how he had never noticed it before. "If I don't patch you up right away, you'll never heal in time to get appropriately strong."

In all of his brief life and the one before it, RRiku could never remember anything more difficult than in that moment trying to stand. Nor could he ever remember a time when he had been both so completely dependant, and so completely depended upon, all at once. The two of them needed each other to stand.

But stand they did, and together the unlikely pair made their way to the lab table. "...lay down." Vexen commanded, and, for once, RRiku obeyed without a word.

"One of your shoulder-blades is cracked. There isn't much I can do, since I'm not a _Doctor_, but I do have a potion..."

"Shouldn't _you_ be using that?" The boy protested, eyeing wounds on his creator that still were raw and bleeding.

"What? Now, don't be ridiculous. Good scientists pay their work more attention than their own personal comforts."

"Or crazy ones." RRiku murmured, but he accepted the potion when it was handed to him, and took a sip. The effect was soothingly instantaneous, spreading warmth and renewal through his aching systems. He could feel the sore spot in his back untighten, and his breath was starting to sound normal again. But he refused to drink it all. "Take it." He said, holding out what remained to the man before him.

Vexen's eyes narrowed, his mouth opening to scold the boy, but RRiku simply shoved the bottle into the scientist's hand, and glared right back.

"...Why are you being nice to me? Don't you realize what I am?"

"...You are what you decide you are, Vexen. And I guess I've just come to the realization that I'm alright with being made by you. So the real question that should be asked, here, is...why are _you_, my emotionless creator, so nice to _me_?"

The scientist did not move, standing so quietly beside RRiku's lab-table-bed that, for a moment, it seemed he wasn't even breathing. But then he drank the potion, with no further comments, and turned away. "Can you get back up, now?"

"...Yeah." It was a little disappointing that Vexen hadn't answered the question. Maybe even more than a little disappointing. The longer he was alive, the more he was starting to realize that answers were hard to come by here. Sometimes one had to wait for them, or work hard to earn them, and sometimes one had to settle with nothing at all. "Why, where are we going?"

"You shouldn't sleep out here on this lab table if you wish to heal properly. Follow me."

Wordlessly, RRiku got up to follow. The potion hadn't been enough to fully restore him, and every muscle still felt sorely overworked, but at least the pain was a dull one now.

When Vexen started to head for the door to his own chambers, however, RRiku stalled. He had never crossed through that door, nor even glimpsed what lay beyond. But the scientist was now holding it open for him, expecting him to step inside.

"..."

And so he did.

Vexen continued, leading him onwards through a living space that only housed a desk, a table, and some chairs, lacking all but the most basic needs. "In there." He pointed, and RRiku looked up to see him gesturing towards a dark room.

However, it wasn't until RRiku saw the one lone bed within the inner chamber that he put up a protest. Despite his aching body and bruised chest, he had never slept anywhere except the laboratory table. In a strange way, it was one of the few areas anywhere that he felt was really his, and he had clung to that. It was almost degrading, but it defined him. If he owned something...that meant he could possess. And if he could possess then he, himself, was not a slave.

But beyond that, if he occupied Vexen's bed, then, RRiku knew, there was nowhere else that the scientist could sleep.

"I'm not taking your bed."

"Nonsense. You are." The man came in behind him, setting down a chair he had picked up on his way. "I want you where I can observe you. It was foolish of you to get yourself so injured, you know. In a weakened state, you're more susceptible to Darkness."

RRiku shuddered on that thought, but continued nonetheless. "I know. But you need the bed more than I do. Logically. You're more injured."

"Well I had a bad run-in with a rose bush."

"Looks like you lost."

"The war isn't over yet. Now get in bed." Vexen sat in his seat, and reached for a book from the bedside table.

"Stop being such a martyr. You don't care about me."

"..."

But Vexen was already ignoring him, flipping slowly through the pages as if RRiku wasn't standing there arguing with him. As if the room weren't too dark to read in, besides.

"I won't do it." RRiku repeated, softly. "Not without you."

Now Vexen lowered the book, closing it shut with an audible snap and letting it drop into his lap.

"If you're going to be stupidly nice to me, then...I'm going to be nice right back. So you lay down, Vexen, and let me pull those thorns out. If _you're_ not feeling better in the morning, you aren't going to be able to spar with me, and then we're going to both keep losing battles--until there is nothing left to lose."

RRiku had a _good_ point, and he knew it. Although he wasn't entirely thrilled about the prospect of sharing a bed with the same man who had observed him like some caged rat, it seemed as though, tonight, all of the normal rules were broken. For the first time, Vexen had really been treating him like he meant something. Like he was a person. Like...he was needed.

RRiku had never felt like that before, and...he honestly didn't know what to think. So the least he could do, he figured, was scoot over a foot or two beneath the covers.

"...what a strange night it is when the child makes more sense than the man." Vexen whispered, quietly. "When did you become so wise?"

"I've been like this. You were just too busy testing _what_ I was to see who was actually there."

The scientist's eyes rested on him cautiously, doing what they did best in quietly observing him. If he had spoken any way but sincerely, Vexen could have found it, weeding it out through whatever depths RRiku could have hidden it in. The man had that kind of power over him, driven by scientific experience and the knowledge that came from memorizing every part of one's creation. But RRiku had nothing to hide, this time. He never could.

So Vexen said not a word, and quietly got into bed.

"Good. Now take your jacket off." RRiku insisted, climbing gingerly in after him.

"I won't!" Vexen blinked, disturbed. "Not while we're here together..."

"Stop being so defensive! Geeze. All I'm doing is pulling out thorns. What are you afraid of?"

Vexen glared off at nothing in particular, but his hand moved slowly towards his zipper.

"...I'm not afraid of anything. I can't be."

"I know."

"But you don't know how you're going to react. You've never slept next to someone before, and especially not me."

"So I'll be careful. Now lay down."

For once, the scientist simply obliged, letting the coat drop onto the floor and resting his head back onto the pillow. His eyes glanced up to RRiku's, before looking quickly away. It was an oddly provocative gesture, and he shivered, thinking on what Vexen had said only a moment ago. He _hadn't_ ever slept next to anyone...

"RRiku?"

Vexen queried, and the boy blinked his focus back to reality. "There should be some antibacterial in the bedside drawers."

Nodding, quietly, RRiku shook off his thoughts and set to work.

The scientist's skin was both cool and smooth to the touch beneath his fingers, pleasantly so. He could easily find irregularities caused by sticky blood or thorns. Although it wasn't fast work, the task was simple enough: remove what didn't belong, and clean the wound it left behind. Minutes passed, and then hours, before RRiku began to realize that Vexen had not said a word, remaining in a chilly silence. It seemed like the scientist was trying his best to remain composed, but RRiku knew more than enough about his creator to pick up on the sharp intakes of breath, or the occasional broken sigh that unwillingly slipped through his guard.

They weathered the process, nonetheless, the monotonous task stretching long into the night. It became apparent, after a while, that his creator was watching him once more, a sharp but pale specter on dark sheets. Gently, RRiku's hand came to a rest on Vexen's stomach, watching for a moment as the older man's chest rose and fell in steady rhythm.

"There. I'm done. Do you feel better?"

"Honestly, no. I'm still in a great deal of pain. But at least it's cleaner." He paused, with a sigh, before frowning at his experiment. "RRiku, You look exhausted."

"I am." The boy whispered, putting down the bottle of antibacterial before abruptly shifting the topic. "Do you want your coat back?"

"That dirty thing? No. A blanket will do just as well." With a sigh, the scientist reached for one. "You should get some rest."

Nodding, RRiku pulled himself as close to the wall as he could to get away from Vexen, and lay down. The softness of the bed beneath his skin was shocking, after sleeping through so many nights on cold, sterile metal. It made him want to grin like an idiot and snuggle down into the covers, but seeing as that was something he wouldn't be caught dead doing, he sufficed with a short 'mmm', instead.

A few moments of silence passed, with the two of them awkwardly lying side by side, a thousand thoughts passing and forgotten before RRiku felt something warm slip into his grasp. He looked down, surprised and uncertain what to expect. What greeted him, however, was the most surprising thing of all: Vexen had taken his hand.

"It's an odd thing for me to do, RRiku, but...thank you."

"Vexen..." The boy bit his lip, and let his own fingers tighten around the scientist's spindly grasp.

"I don't..." Vexen began, his eyes moving upward to stare at the ceiling. "I don't need comfort but...heavens! I am rather tired of being pushed around."

He sighed, a heavy sigh, and continued.

"Why is it that there is absolutely no one I can think of, anymore, who would be bothered one iota if I were to just disappear? It was not that long ago when it seemed I knew my enemies as well as I knew my companions, when I wasn't having to fight so constantly to prove myself. But now... now it's as if I am nothing more than a laughing stock--something to be conquered and discarded and _ridiculed_...and, Riku, it just isn't fair. Why do they write me off so easily, when there is so much I am still capable of? When there is so much I still wish to do?" Vexen's tone was rising as he rambled, the first memorial of lost emotion that RRiku had been allowed to see.

"I could learn anything. Everything, if I wanted!

"It should excite me...and yet it doesn't. Without a heart, it cannot. But, somehow, I still anticipate the possibility of excitement when I reach our Kingdom--that someday, I might feel what matters most to me...the satisfaction of being truly wise. Is it so hard to believe that I could accumulate enough knowledge to be sought after and referenced by the greatest minds in the galaxy, and hold conference with other brilliant colleagues?

"I want to discover compounds that have not been glimpsed before, and write books on subjects no one has ever read.

"And, finally, if it's not too much to ask, I want to impart my knowledge upon someone truly worthy of it. Someone that will _understand_ it, and understand what I have done, and respect me for who I am instead of mocking me for it.

"I want this, RRiku..._I want it._ With all the feeling left inside my _soul_.

"But there is no one who sees it.

"We fight for our survival, as Organization members...for our right to exist, just as you are trying now. But until we reach our goal..." Vexen trailed off.

"No one bloody cares. Not even me."

He finished, then, his voice dissolving to a whisper as his fingers unlaced from RRiku's and retreated to his side. Vexen's words, for just a moment, had been full of real passion, like there was _more_ inside of him than just a shadow from the past. Black-coats didn't have hearts, the red-haired man had told him. They were incapable of emotion. But some desires had to be rooted deeper than the surface feelings of a heart. Those desires, RRiku realized, must have been all that the Organization had left.

Slowly, Riku reached out, and quietly, he wrapped an arm over Vexen. For a brief moment, the scientist tensed...

"I care." RRiku whispered.

And Vexen relaxed, in the boy's embrace.

"That's just because you were made to. You're programmed for obedience, whether you realize it or not."

But RRiku shook his head, unwilling to believe that. "No, Vexen. I care. You can't program that. It's something I'm going to chose, for myself, because I have a right to." He knew he was programmed...knew it in the way that having the scientist this close to him was making him want to be closer still, but this was _his_ decision. Even if Vexen could never return that emotion, RRiku would follow him, nonetheless.

"Well, then. That almost makes me undeniably real." The scientist whispered, putting his larger, longer hand over RRiku's. "No one else here has that."

"If you accept the acknowledgment of a puppet, that is."

"If I do that, then I give _you_ acknowledgment as well." And, slowly, the scientist's arms slipped around RRiku, pulling the replica up against him gently. It was a varied assortment of pleasure--warm and cool and soft and comforting--all at once. Inhaling quietly, RRiku slid closer, wanting to capture the scent of Now into his mind forever. He was _accepted_ somewhere. He had a place he could _belong_.

"You just gave me permission to exist, Vexen." He exhaled, feeling better.

With a soft chuckle, the scientist leaned in closer, pulling light blankets around them snugly. "Then I suppose that makes you a real boy." Vexen whispered, in his ear, sending chills up and down his spine as they lay there entwined together.

"Soon." He truthfully reminded. "Soon, I'll be a real boy. But...it at least for now, you've given me a fighting chance."

----------

It was a strange thing for Vexen, waking up with something _warm_ beside him, especially when he had developed a preference to crisp air and thin blankets. Since the cold temperatures were ideal for keeping errant bacteria in check and helping to sterilize his working surfaces, they had remained present at all times of day.

All times of day, that was, until his laboratory had recently acquired an occupant.

In that case, maybe it _would_ be better to keep the boy within his chambers. Then, at least, he could allow the temperatures in the lab remain at whatever degree he wished without fear of his replica catching a progress-stopping sort of cold.

_His_ replica.

Apparently, Vexen mused to himself, that term was valid in more than one sense, if he had also begun to use it.

And so Vexen thought on it, for a time, lounging in bed as he absentmindedly listened to the strange sound of a nearby heart. RRiku seemed to want his company, for whatever reason, even if it _had_ to be because of how the boy was conditioned.

But what did it mean for Vexen, himself, to be in this arrangement?

The scientist sighed.

Well, for one thing...it was pleasant. The replica was a comfortable warmth beside him, despite the odd texture of the boy's skin. Having RRiku this close also meant that Vexen could observe him better. Even if the immediate danger had passed, the unpredictable nature of the heart meant susceptibility to the Darkness even in the least likely of situations. If the scientist was nearby to catch the first signs of ill-effects, he could prevent an unnecessary loss of the subject.

Perhaps, even, Marluxia would think twice about being bothersome if there was another occupant in his room--certainly a worthwhile bonus.

Bah.

All of those excuses still sounded weak, even to Vexen's mind. He was futilely trying to justify something he could not honestly explain.

Besides, Marluxia did _not_ know about the replica, and _that_ was for the best. If the lord of Castle Oblivion found out that Vexen had created a creature capable of rivaling Sora...in fact, _meant_ for just that rivalry...

Well, the scientist concluded, it was better that his sound collateral remain undiscovered. If anything in the castle should go amiss, as it certainly would with Maruxia in command, then Vexen wanted to have a backup plan.

RRiku was that plan.

So perhaps this strange new turn of events really worked for Vexen. His little devoted follower would undoubtedly do whatever it took to protect _him_, the watchful teacher. The boy had, after all, said that he _cared_...

Vexen stirred, on that, almost reflexively loosening his grasp on RRiku. The boy was not yet awake, and bruises and scrapes were still evident on his rubbery skin: long stretches of blue and red giving way to darker patches of black and purple. In his sleep, one lazy, ridged arm had made its way back across Vexen's middle, clutching tightly around the scientist's coatless body.

It was, altogether, much too intimate a scene for him.

Yet...never had someone (beyond immediate family in his youth, perhaps), ever, ever bothered to say as much. Not one person had ever _cared_.

There was no heart of his to be touched, and no emotions to be stirred, but, for some reason that he had not yet defined, he wasn't _leaving_ the bed yet, either. With no heart to speak of, what was it that was _tying_ him to this boy?

The answer yet eluded him.

Vexen rose, finally, carefully removing the small hand from his midsection, wincing as not-very-healed wounds of his own felt the icy touch of too-cold air. The clock on the wall was trying to inform him that it was already past noon, which, the scientist knew, was absolutely impossible. He was not the sort of person to sleep in when there was work to be done, and there was _always_ work that was awaiting him. Marluxia must have exhausted Vexen yesterday beyond what he had initially concluded, and it further disturbed him not to remember what had happened after he blacked out. Waking up in his lab, alone...

He was only thankful that RRiku _hadn't_ returned before him. His secret was still safe.

Undoubtedly, he would be expected to report in today, but even that was for the best. So long as he continued to go upstairs to see those neophytes, it would prevent _them_ from coming down to visit _him_. Mere annoying miscreants they might be, but so long as Marluxia was pampering them (and so long as Marluxia still had the advantage), he was going to play by their rules.

Ignoring the pain from his scratches, Vexen made his way to the closet, and pulled his last coat from its hook inside. He remembered scoffing at being given three of the garments, saying that he was careful enough to not need more than one, and yet here he stood holding his last. One lay out on RRiku's lab table, annoyingly unclaimable, and the other was still laying in a thorn-shredded heap beside his bed.

This was the final one, now. Vexen would _not_ allow it to be sullied.

Grumpily zipping the leather coat closed in preparation for the day, he pulled the black gloves from his pockets and slipped them over sore fingers. He noted that, strangely enough, despite all the damages incurred, Marluxia had left his face and his hair intact. With his entire body obscured by his outfit, it looked as if nothing ill had befallen the scientist at all. Certainly, there had been some purpose to that...

Another part of the unwelcome mystery the florist was presenting.

Well, Vexen had his own mysteries. He smirked, glancing back to the still sleeping boy upon his bed, and opened his black portal to leave.

"Can we help you, Vexen? It's not very often we see you topside."

He had scarcely stepped out when he found himself faced with the red-haired visage of the Organization's Number Eight. The flame-thrower's frequent female companion was standing not far off, hovering around Marluxia's viewscreen. Vexen was aware of Sora's entrance into the castle, although he knew little about the boy's up-to-date progression. Still, it would be a good opportunity to let RRiku whet his appetite and gain a little experience in the process. So long as he was discreet about it...

"I came to lend a hand. I remain unconvinced of any potential in this 'hero' you've been coddling. Perhaps an experiment would put my doubts to rest." He smirked.

The blonde merely rolled her eyes, however. "I knew this would happen. Everything's an experiment with you." Nothing unpredictable there. Larxene tended to classify in extremes. To her, Vexen was nothing more than his job classification. He could deal with that.

"I'm a scientist." Vexen shrugged. "Experimentation is what I do." Axel and Larxene still weren't looking too particularly impressed, but Vexen didn't..no, reconstrue that..._couldn't_ care. The two neophytes were each fierce in their own rights, but without their leader around, their biting remarks unveiled no teeth. It was like watching children in a schoolyard, and they probably yielded about as much in the way of intelligence, too.

"Whatever, Vexen. Do what you want. But cut the act. Testing Sora is just an excuse to test your little follower."

A typical dialogue filler. Axel hadn't even bothered to name his...what?

His _what_? Suddenly Vexen's blood ran cold, even for him. How in the Periodic Table of Elements did Axel know about RRiku? How much _did_ Axel know? Why hadn't RRiku said anything?

Vexen's thoughts began racing, before he ground them to a stop. It was apparent he was going to have to be a _great_ deal more cautious here. He could _not_ let it be known what the true purpose behind RRiku's creation was. No matter what the cost.

"Follower?" A careful eyebrow raised. "I'll have you know he's the product of _much_ research."

"What he is is a toy." Larxene retorted, sounding for all the world like she had any clue what she was talking about. Well, let them think that way. It made it easier on him.

If they thought RRiku was a toy, then they wouldn't be thinking on his applications as a weapon. Best to back out now and let the situation fade to naught.

"Hmph." He frowned, and turned to open his portal. "I see I'm wasting my time."

"Have your fun." Axel interjected. "But take this with you. A wild card to keep the game fresh." Glancing back, Vexen was surprised to see the red-head offering him a deck of cards. "Now don't tell me I don't respect my elders."

Surprised at Axel's show of charity, and suddenly suspicious, Vexen accepted the cards, nonetheless. His own deck was adequate, but it never hurt to strengthen RRiku's. Just so long as his replica stayed out of sight and out of mind, then everything would turn out fine. There was still a chance. All the boy had to do was keep far, far away.

"I daresay I won't."

Vexen finished, and turned..to find RRiku staring back at him, looking up to him with those not-quite-caring but terribly inquisitive eyes. RRiku had followed him. RRiku was here. RRiku was suddenly very, very undeniable.

Vexen closed his eyes.

Everything was over.

------------

It had only taken a few sentences for RRiku's world to be torn down, a new identity threatening to banish his existence.

He looked up, his head still reeling from disorientation as he tried to focus on the woman who approached him. RRiku didn't even know her name, but he knew that he hated her, and that he hated what she stood for, more than he had hated anything within his short span of life. She represented how far he hadn't come, the weaknesses that were becoming more and more apparent each day: even though she hadn't _tried_, she had completely outmaneuvered him.

The initial slap had stung, it was true. Somehow, it hurt more than being beaten by the Real Thing yesterday.

All the same, the pain was still less than that of watching the only person that mattered to him walk away. What on earth was Vexen thinking? How could he have thrown RRiku out so easily? Why didn't he even give it a second thought? One word from the cocky black-coated girl and the scientist dismissed RRiku's entire being for a worthless experiment. Vexen definitely did not have a heart. Apparently, he didn't really have a soul, either.

But the blonde-haired witch just smirked, leaning over RRiku where he had been knocked into the corner. "Stupid little toy! What made you think you could even SCRATCH me?" She gave him a good kick to his ribs and turned away, her back exposed to him in mockery of how little he meant to her. "But look on the bright side...Namine will erase the memory of me knocking you flat along with everything else. She'll implant the loveliest little memories you could ever hope for."

Desperation was starting to set in, as he realized how hopeless the situation was growing. This woman was posing enough of a problem on her own _without_ the red-head behind her, who would undoubtably come to her aid in the unlikely chance that RRiku _could_ take her down. Axel's silent observation had been another sting. This whole castle seemed like one big disappointment: as soon as you thought you knew somebody, they turned on you. If he didn't fight for himself, if he couldn't _rely_ on himself, in a few moments he wasn't going to have anything left to even fight for.

Frantically, RRiku reached for the blade that had fallen beside him, only to hear a soft _crunch_ as a wave of pain swept over him. That damned female had just ground her boot into his hand.

"So what if they're lies?" She whispered, with a smirk, and released her heel, walking away.

It wasn't _fair_!

He hadn't been given nearly enough time to become strong. Not by a long shot. He hadn't gotten a second chance at Riku, hadn't gotten to test himself on Sora, and hadn't gotten to prove himself to Vexen. What made the Real Thing's memories so much more valid, that his were going to be wiped in order to contain them? Why was he being thrown around so carelessly? Was he really that worthless?

"No..."

Vexen didn't seem to be coming back, either. RRiku was still holding out, for that. If Vexen came, then he'd stand a good chance of escaping.

Then again, the two black-coats guarding him couldn't possibly know what he was capable of. He could make a break for the Darkness now, if he was careful. They just had to be distracted...

"Do you want to take him to her, or should I?" The blonde one glanced to Axel, putting her hands on her hips.

"Vexen should have, really." Was the exasperated reply. "But, uh...I will. "

Listening to that somehow stung RRiku worse. The least his creator could have done was stayed to finish the job, instead of leaving him out like fowl, unwanted garbage.

"You stay away from me." RRiku hissed, pulling himself further into the corner. The Darkness was calling out to him, weaving tantalizing trails of soon-to-be freedom across his vision. He could still escape to Darkness, he was still a person, he was still _himself_...

"Not a chance."

Except all too suddenly, his hands were yanked behind his back as he was pulled onto his feet. How had his actions been read before he even had time to make them?! Was he really this far behind? "I've got my orders, after all. No hard feelings."

But he wasn't about to give up. Not yet. Dammit, where was Vexen!? Why wasn't he coming back? RRiku _kicked_ back at long spindly knees, trying for a last desperate attempt to free himself. If he could break loose, only for a moment, it would be enough...

But it was to no avail. As quickly as the red-haired man had grabbed onto him, they were enveloped in a dark purplish ball. RRiku recognized it, vaguely. It was the portal that the black-coats used, when they were in a hurry. "No...NO!!"

He screamed, then, letting out all of the anger, pain, and torment he now felt. Death would have been one thing, but if he didn't do something, and fast, he was going to find a greater doom. He would be erased.

It was true he didn't know a lot about this 'Namine' beyond scant bits Vexen had murmured in aggravation, but he knew enough to stay away her. She was a monster, he guessed, who could make anyone forget. Anyone that had a heart, that was. Damn his stupid heart. Damn it for believing in anything, or in anyone. Damn Vexen, too, for taking so long.

He was jarred back into stark reality, thoughts interrupted and forgotten, as the portal ejected him painfully onto his knees. The sudden silence was a stark contrast to his current state of mind. He could feel his hands still pulled behind his back, held fastly in the iron grip of a man he could have considered a friend, before this happened. RRiku's thoughts were racing, trying to come up with a way out, trying to reach a level of focus above the voices that were building a crescendo in his head. There was nothing he could do, but something had to be done. Echoes of relentless Darkness warred with frustrations from his self, drowning out even his labored breaths in the bright white room.

He started shaking, then, and bit his lip to control it, not about to let his fear overcome him. He wasn't going to break down like a child, and he wasn't going to go quietly into the night. His will had lasted him this long...

He could face whatever creature lay ahead.

It didn't matter if he really believed that, or not. He told himself whatever he could, to stay calm.

But when he tried to stand, and tried to call forth his weapon, one glance up into soft, blue eyes suddenly mired him.

"Don't."

A voice spoke, cutting through aggravations and denials and escape plans like his sword had cut through heartless.

"I don't want to hurt you."

His call to Darkness faltered, and his knees gave way before a calm power that he hadn't felt before. This was soothing, here...

The young angel in the white dress slowly kneeled down before him, close to him, taking his face into her hands. She was far more gentle than he could have expected. Far more gentle than he deserved, or was used to after the harshness from the castle's other occupants. Her eyes never left his, holding him still, silencing his unease, and keeping at bay all the chaos that threatened to erupt inside his mind.

"I don't want to die..."

RRiku whispered. His cheeks felt wet, and he didn't understand quite why. Why was this girl here? Where was the monster he had heard of?

"I'm the monster." Softly, the angel whispered, and with a horrifying clarity RRiku understood how smoothly he'd been caught.

"No." He winced, already feeling the memories that he was clutching at fading back behind his eyes. "Don't do this to me."

"You're not going to die." Her expression turned sad, and RRiku found himself startled to see emotion where it had been absent in others for so long. She wasn't one of them, he realized, noting the lack of a black-coat, and the door-less cage that surrounded them. But even this wasn't what it seemed. He knew to expect that, now.

"You're right." He laughed, wishing he could look away. "It's much worse than that."

And that was the last of being puppeted that RRiku was going to stand.

This was his final, crucial chance to fight, and fight he did. With all the strength and willpower he could find, he struggled in his mind to keep his _heart_ his sacred ground. There wasn't a lot there to fight for, but what was there was _his_. His small metal table in the lab, Vexen's coat, Vexen's _eyes_, Riku's amusing indignation when they'd met, the smell of oranges and ginger in the morning, the red-head handing him a deck of cards...

But the more he tried to cling to them, the faster his memories were ripped away. One by one, all of the times that he had worked so hard to define himself were replaced, and given new definitions. He searched to remember Axel, and found only childhood companions playing on a beach. Memories of being humiliated by one blonde-haired witch were dismantled to leave a blonde-haired angel holding him, encompassing his vision.

But it was Vexen he clung to most of all, holding on to the last moments when he had felt safe and secure and _warm_ beside someone...

someone who might still come for him...

someone who had taken care of him...

someone who...!

The memory was gone before it was even completed.

He couldn't even grasp for it.

RRiku screamed.

---------

For maybe the first time since losing his heart, Axel felt the inclination to 'feel bad' about what he just had done. It wasn't much of a surprise that the inclination wasn't working, but the want of the emotion was still there.

"Is he out yet?"

Looking down at the finally slumped-over RRiku didn't help.

"He's sleeping, Axel."

"Yeah, but will he be all right?"

The young girl looked up at him, and blinked almost in confusion.

"It doesn't matter, Axel. We did a terrible thing to this boy." Her words softened half-way through, and that little pang in his chest was back. That 'if there was anything here you'd sure be sorry' pang. "I didn't hurt him, but he's...not going to be 'all right.' He's going to be somebody that he isn't."

"Well, I bet you're jealous."

Axel smirked, a little, and finally let go of Vexen's little puppet. His hands had been starting to cramp up from holding on so tightly. The damned kid sure could struggle. "At least he gets to _be_ a Somebody, right?"

"You know that's not very nice."

She shook her head, and looked away.

"Please, take him somewhere, Axel? Anywhere, but here."

"Uh...where?"

"I don't know."

There was a strange wavering sound to her voice, and Axel, for the hundredth time, wondered just how much 'Nobody' was _in_ the Nobody before him. She mimicked emotions too well for his tastes. No wonder she didn't fit in with the rest of them.

That was kind of funny, though, since the rest of them didn't fit in, anywhere, either. Heck, if it had been up to him, Namine should have been given a little black coat just like any other Nobody. But she looked better in white, and...

she wasn't a fighter; even more so than that silly sitar player. Namine didn't want Kingdom Hearts. She really just wanted a friend.

"Look, when he wakes up, what is he going to believe? Does he think he's been living _here_ all this time?"

"Yes." A soft reply.

"Then I'll take him to a room."

"It has to look like it's been lived in, Axel, or he'll find it strange..."

"Geeze! Why didn't anyone think of these things beforehand?" Scratching his head, Axel rolled his eyes and bent down to scoop up the kid. "Isn't he going to find it strange enough that he's like this?" He nodded down, indicating the blue-ish ridges that still swept over RRiku's skin. He could tell even through his gloves that they had kind of a strange texture. It was interesting that this kid had that kind of power, even while being a replica of someone else. Axel wondered, briefly, what it would be like to fight him. Maybe if they'd let well-enough alone, that chance would have come. Now, however, it was extremely unlikely.

"No. Not with the memories I gave him. When he wakes, he will probably change himself back to look like Riku. He is Riku, now, Axel. Don't forget it."

"I've got it, I've got it." Axel rolled his eyes, used to being mocked for his own seeming lapse of memory. "So he needs a lived-in room." A smirk.

"I'll give him mine."

"Axel!"

"Don't sweat it. I'll tidy up a bit, first."

Namine bit her lip, and stood from the floor, where she had been kneeling down to work on RRiku.

"Please...be gentle with him?"

"Alright."

Axel turned, and opened a portal, pulling the boy a bit closer as to not accidentally let go in the Dark. "I'll keep him safe, for his girlfriend." He winked, then, stepping out of the room and leaving her to ponder that one, transporting himself to the familiar comforts of his own makeshift home. The room was in a bit of a disarray, with some socks and an extra pair of dark boots scattered on the floor, and a nightshirt draped over the dining room's chair. One thing could certainly be said about Castle Oblivion...you got your space to throw things around in. And, more often than not, you got your privacy.

"Hm, kid. Looks like it's just you and me." Kicking a sock towards the laundry bin, Axel headed for his bed, depositing the clone and pulling up the covers around the boy. It _looked_ innocent enough. Like Riku had just fallen asleep there last night. All he had to do now was get rid of the conspicuous part of the mess. Dirty dishes could stay...maybe if he got lucky, Riku would wash them. But the jackets in the closet had to go, and the dirty towels, and...

Oh, screw it.

Axel snapped his fingers, and summoned a Dusk, sitting down to watch as the squiggly white form oozed happily around the room in his idle bidding. It was still a little odd to have a 24-hour instant maid service when he wanted it, but Dusks were amazingly dutiful, and not once had they complained.

They still didn't understand the concept of 'secrets' yet, however, and so Axel cautiously waited until the Dusk had left before he opened a portal direct to the World that Never Was. He didn't exactly 'look forward' to making these visits, but it was a good time to report his findings. No one would be expecting to see him here for a while, if he was supposedly taking care of the little clone, and Xemnas might just be curious about this one. Plus, there was always a good story to tell about Marluxia.

Axel grinned, in mock amusement, as he stepped slyly through. It was way too bad his emotions were gone. He would have _enjoyed_ being a spy.

---------

Notes:

December 25, 2006:

This took so long. I hate editing these things. Good thing I've got such a wonderful partner in crime.

It is also very annoying that Square keeps putting out screenshots from Final Mix because I might have to start editing my story as I write it. Thankfully nothing unfixable yet. And hell, I'm as glad to get the information as the next KH-obsessed person.

I can't even begin to quote all the works of art that have influenced this story to some degree. I'd like to acknowledge 'Sorrow of Magpies,' 'Seven Stories For Fourteen Nobodies,' the art of psycrow and Silvestris on Deviantart, and to some strange extent 'Those Lacking Spines.' Also instrumental in the writing of this has been U-E, for bouncing thoughts around with me in the darkness.

Bloopers: 

#1. "The man had that kind of power over him, driven by scientific experience and the knowledge that came from memorizing every part of one's creation. He could make him do the polka, if he were so inclined."

#2. He screamed, then, letting out all of the anger, pain, and torment he now felt. There was more feeling in that scream than had been in even the Real Thing's old emo sessions.

#3. Axel. WTF. Get out of my story. This is supposed to be from Vexen and RRiku's points of view.


	3. Chapter 3

This is for those looking for intellectual enjoyment as well as an entertaining read. I hope I can provide for either. .

There is no Yaoi, although there is realistic violence and non-sexual male/male themes. This chapter is probably the least work-safe that I will write, so proceed carefully. It's still nothing more than you'd see in a PG-13 movie, nonetheless.

Visit http://8-13. deviantart. com for our other non-fanfiction works. (And take out the spaces, yo.)

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It wasn't until he was back in the sanctuary of his lab that Vexen finally relaxed.

Everything within the room remained exactly as it had been the night before: blood still stained the floor, his gloves still graced the sink, and the empty potion bottle still rested where RRiku had left it on his lab table. The place was in the same horrible disarray from the previous nights encounter, yet it didn't nearly begin to hint at the disaster that had just occurred. Perhaps if he tidied up a bit, it might look the same way it had when he first came to the castle. A little more work, and it could look as if RRiku had never existed there at all.

Vexen scowled upon that thought, deeply.

Weeks of pain-staking observations had just been discarded in the hopes that he could preserve some vague remnant of his original experiment--along with his own life. He grimaced. When had that horrid vagrant of a red-haired Nobody even had the _opportunity_ to encounter his RRiku? Why did it have to be _that man_ instead of someone trustworthy? It might have been even _beneficial_ for the boy to run across Zexion or Lexaeus, as either of _their_ respective fields of study could have trained him. They already knew what his experiment had been up to, anyhow. But _Axel_?

Vexen wanted to curse, or pace, or storm about, even though he knew those actions would offer little relief from his not-anger. This was not the _first_ time he had landed in such a bind, if the last few days were any indication of what was to come. Why, the fact that he was even _at_ this castle must have been due to some fault in his own research. How many times, then, in the future, would his fate be to observe all that he _might_ care about be taken away from him? It _was not fair_, and not having a heart didn't change the fact that he did _not_ tolerate unfairness. He had half a mind to march himself, right then, via portal, all the way back to Superior and demand recompense for the injustices endured beneath Marluxia's 'command.'

Yet that would not end well.

Kingdom Hearts was the one encompassing goal in the Organization, and his situation, as unfortunate as it was, did not fall under the category of 'ensuring the Nobodies would reach their destiny.' Slowly, unclenching his stretched knuckles, Vexen headed for the closet. He simply had to carry on with the hand that had been given to him, no matter what poor cards he held.

Possessing bad cards in Castle Oblivion, unfortunately, often ended in a rather sudden death.

With a resigned sigh, Vexen could do naught but fetch a clean washcloth from the drawer to straighten up the mess around his lab. He was going to move on, and dwell upon the past no longer. Besides, the mere thought of having left unsterile surfaces to sit this long was appalling, and, until he received new orders or thought of what his next project might _be_, he certainly had the time to clean. Dusks never did it quite right, anyhow.

Thus decided, it wasn't long before blood stains were wiped up, glassware was scrubbed, boiled, polished, and all his supplies were replaced upon now rejuvenated shelves. He even procured a broom to sweep the recently accumulating dust out of the corners, before heading for the deep seclusion of his room. It already seemed _brighter_ in his laboratory than it had for a long while, and still he was not done.

His sheets were replaced and shipped off with a Dusk for washing, and the tattered remains of his second Organization coat were sent towards the trash. Vexen enjoyed the mindless-ness of the work, as much as he could, letting himself get lost in the steady rhythm of his cleaning. Order in one's environment meant order in one's mind, and since he prized his mind so _highly_ it was most important everything be clean.

And so it became.

With a pleased sigh he closed the door to his room, returning to the laboratory to take care of the one, last spot that remained. It was the spot that would take the most effort to erase: RRiku's lab table.

Vexen had avoided it for a reason.

Perhaps it was that he did not yet believe that his experiment was completely gone. He could let RRiku run around with his other self's memories for a while, let the Neophytes believe that he was harmless, let Marluxia have a laugh at Vexen's expense, and then, finally, when all was over, Vexen would bring RRiku back where he belonged.

Yet, even if the young man did came back, why would he _want_ to stay? Why be near the person whom he once had trusted, and why trust that person again since he had been betrayed?

The scientist quietly picked up his washcloth and bottle of bleach, approaching the table with mixed apprehensions. There were _memories_ associated with it now, even if his experiment did not return to him. If he wiped those memories away, would it mean he had rejected anything that he had _felt_ towards his RRiku?

The mere notion of the thought derailed him, and he quickly started spraying down the surface.

Vexen was, the last time he had checked, a _Nobody_. It was therefore completely, utterly impossible that he had _felt_anything towards that boy. Completely. His washcloth met the counter with aggravation, smearing away bacterial residue with the gusto of somebody that _did_ remember feelings, and who was trying to deny them.

He wasn't going to let himself think about the _almost_-elation he had experienced when RRiku had woke up _on this table_, or the _almost_-apprehension from when the boy had nearly died. He was going to ignore the memories that could no longer bring him any progress, or do him any good. Memories such as the way that RRiku stared into his eyes the night before; or that brief spark of total comprehension when he felt the potion pressed into his fingers, and knew...

"Go _away_." Vexen hissed, scrubbing harder.

But the memories still remained.

He kicked at the table, then, letting out a soft yelp when he realized he kicked too hard. But when he set his foot down, it came down on something soft and unfamiliar; something he had almost forgotten about completely. The first of his coats was resting on the floor, lying beside the lab-bench where RRiku must have dropped it--where RRiku would not be coming back for it.

And finally the memories were too much.

Vexen slumped over onto the bare metal, burying his head within his arms. The sharp odor of stale chlorine thickly greeted him, but still he did not move, breathing deeply like it didn't matter what he might inhale. Why was he like this? There was nothing in his chest to make him feel. The dull emptiness within him still remained, even despite all of the outward signs that it was filling up. This was not even like a _memory_ of feeling loss, because in all his years at Radiant Garden, Vexen never had experienced such a thing. This was new, and intangible, and he was straining vainly to understand.

He _cared_ that RRiku was gone. It _upset_ him, somehow. Whether it was because RRiku was _his_ creation or because RRiku _meant_ something, somehow...it didn't matter, because there was still this...thing...to deal with, now. For any human, illogical emotional trouble would be attributed to the heart. He _didn't have a heart_ so why was there this _something_ clinging to his memories, now?

The answer, as it hit him, was painfully obvious.

He had simply never bothered to ask the question that would lead him there, before. Yet now, suddenly, floods of ideas sparked within his brain. What if the heart...wasn't the only thing that could feel?

What if, through RRiku's obedience programming, in making sure that RRiku's new heart would always obey him, Vexen had inadvertently connected something...more?

It was preposterous.

Absolutely absurd.

No one had ever done any experimenting along those lines, at all. If what he was starting to theorize was true, then...any number of possibilities could result. His own memories of RRiku were yet linked to _something_. But with no hearts to connect, must there exist some other form of connection? It had to be so. Was it RRiku's heart? Or could it even be their _souls_?

Could a soul _feel_?

Certainly it had to!

Vexen's head shot up from the table, his fingers flying for the nearest pen. Without even realizing, he had grabbed his RRiku-journal, and he flipped it to the back, scribbling down words as fast as he could postulate. Humanity had always believed in the existence of a soul, in one form or another. As Nobodies, they had more proof than ever before of its existence. Even a simple, basic Creeper was more than just a shell: it had personality, and desires, and an individual destiny. Intangible, unquantifyable things that were yet inevitably true. Didn't that fool Demyx still insist on playing his Sitar? Wasn't music _chiefly_ fundamental to a human being...didn't music speak to the soul? And why did Luxord still play cards? Why did Xigbar still go surfing? Why did he, himself, still almost passionately pursue his intellectual endeavors? Because it made his _soul_ complete. It satiated him. It...defied a word.

It was even a dull thrill that, at the base of it all, his conclusion was becoming clear to him.

Nobodies did not have the luxury of a heart to channel their emotions through. Anything basic that a human might feel was beyond the Organization's grasp - which meant they had to dig deeper to find true satisfaction. A Nobody had to reach all the way down into its core, where everything about them still remained. They didn't need a heart to keep existing. They didn't need a heart to be defined. They didn't need a heart to feel passion, and they didn't need a heart to find a soul-mate.

Vexen stopped, then, as his hand cramped up, and closed the journal. There were yet-untapped musings into the very nature of a Nobody, and the amount of research it was going to take to factually back his hypotheses seemed insurmountable. Yet, at the same time, he had the perfect case study. Of all the Nobodies for this to happen to, he was the last one he would have expected to take notice of the soul.

But he was the first one, he thought, ironically enough, to have someone _real_ touch it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It meant, unfortunately, that RRiku was more valuable than even Marluxia could realize. This fact became even more unfortunate because Vexen, now possessed with theory, wished to be experimenting _now_. He had paced his way into his bedroom, logically understanding that there was nothing more that could be done this night, and even turned off all the lights and headed for his bed, before finding himself back on his feet and pacing yet again. Darkness only seemed to give more strength to his foundations, leaving a blank slate to write upon with the utensils of his mind.

It unearthed memories, too, for where better to store things lost...than in the darkness where they'd not be found? Not be found without eyes that were meant to see, at any rate, or pulled forth without a key that was meant to unlock...but that had been where RRiku had come in. Where RRiku _should_ have come in.

Vexen sat upon the bed once more, laying back and trying to subdue his rampant thoughts, and his memories. There were too _many_ fresh memories entwined within the thoughts...memories of a small beating heart within the darkness, and warm skin nestled in beside his own. Thoughts that were completely counter-productive and absurdly un-necessary, especially when one was trying to get some sleep.

It was into this state of mind that something out of place came forth. The air had gotten thicker, his sheets felt slightly moist, and, at the fringes of his hearing, a soft scraping sound was echoing from time to time.

He let a few more moments pass before he realized he was holding his breath, waiting once more for that perplexing noise. At least, for the time, all thoughts of RRiku and souls had come to a halt, leaving Vexen's brain to wander off to this new curiosity. His ever-so-logical mind was telling him there was nothing to be wary of right now, telling him to hold out for a moment as it analyzed the situation anew with every perceived hint, attributing his potential apprehension to the movements of the air or perhaps a small rodent infestation. But when he thought he felt something soft curl over his fingers, Vexen sat up straight, ignoring the logic. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising, and he reached out, uncertain, trying in vain to feel what had touched him, and finding nothing there.

"What is..."

"Shhhh. You're ruining the mood."

A melodic voice spoke into his ear. Firm arms wrapped around him, restricting him, and pulling him back towards the bed. Alarmed, Vexen resisted, steeling himself for the worst that was about to come.

He _knew_ that voice.

"Marluxia. This..." He managed to get out, as he struggled against the intruder. "Is the second time you've invaded my chambers. Kindly leave." But the entrapping arms won out, as he was pulled up against a solid warm mass and held there, tightly. Squirm and wriggle as he might, it was to no avail. He had been caught, and in the very place he'd still thought safe. "...it's preposterous! Don't do this."

"Oh, but Vexen. Can't I come to show my gratitude?"

The voice was even closer now; so close that Vexen could feel warm breath on his skin and soft tendrils of hair tickling his neck. He froze, uncertain, waiting for the pain he knew was sure to follow. "For your gift?"

"I get the feeling you don't give everyone this kind of gratitude, number Eleven." Vexen hissed, quickly. "It is _most_ unappreciated, in this regard." His struggle had ceased, for a time, unwilling to create any awkward motion that might risk bringing Marluxia's lips closer to his unprotected skin. The pink-haired man's 'gift' had to be referring to RRiku, in which case Vexen ought to carefully consider his next words. He would need luck now, to keep Marluxia from discovering his RRiku's real purpose.

"I know what you were trying to do, my clever little scientist."

Well, that was it. He had no luck.

The arms around his stomach tightened, pressing him further into the other man. Leather squeaked as it slid along leather in the darkness, and Vexen tensed, ready for the worst to come. He hated being trapped like this, but even more than that he hated having his back to anyone. So long as he could face an obstacle, he could overcome it, or shield himself from its attack. Yet his back was sensitive, for more reasons than one. He still remembered biting taunts from other children, from fellow students, from fellow _apprentices_ that always took place when he was turned away. He was vulnerable from behind; he had lost his heart that way.

And now, startlingly, soft lips took advantage of his weakness, feeling their way down the back of his neck, parting his hair on both sides. Having been awaiting pain, his body shivered, without permission, at the unexpected onslaught. Marluxia was relentless in his attack, and excruciatingly slow, knowing exactly which spots to press deeper or which spots to lightly breathe upon, and Vexen did not understand the movements in this sort of battle sufficiently to formulate a counter.

"How insubordinate of you...trying to overthrow your superior. Although it was a very lovely method, I have to admit. You must have been very lonely, Vexen, to create a Somebody to be your friend. And what a beautiful creature! Was he loyal, Number Four? Did he follow your every wish? Your every command?" The hands that held him fast against Marluxia had parted ways, one finding the zipper on his coat, and sliding it slowly down his front. "So you're all alone again, aren't you, now that he is mine? Poor, poor Vexen." He could hear the mockery dripping from the gardener's tone, condescension thick within each fragrant word. "I guess I'll have to keep you company."

The scientist grimaced, struggling to keep floundering senses under his control. That was what had lost the battle last time, and his lesson had been learned. So long as he did not get overwhelmed by the overload of input, he could gain the upper hand. He could even outsmart Number Eleven, if his head was clear. Taking a deep breath, Vexen bit his lip, pulling his mind back into focus and trying to keep prepared. This encounter was already taking a turn he hadn't expected, and he couldn't let himself be caught off guard again. "Why? What is it you want from me?"

He tested his arms, checking to see if he could move them, and was surprised to find them bound behind his back, caught between him and the gardener and tangled hopelessly in leafy vines. The soft shuffling of plants sounded elsewhere around him...along the walls, over the floor, and Vexen realized with an increasing alarm what the scraping sounds from earlier must have been. Slowly, without him ever noticing, his room had transformed into a jungle, filled with impossible flora eager to obey their master's every whim.

"Loyalty. Devotion." The other man drew even closer, pressing his soft cheek roughly onto Vexen's own. Surprised by the words and the actions, he opened his mouth to protest but found himself silenced as Marluxia pressed on. "I want from you what should rightfully be mine as the keeper of this castle. Nothing more." A sharp knee was forced in between Vexen's legs, tangling his and Marluxia's in an incomprehensible array. His mind whirled at the onslaught, and he fought with it, trying to block out shocks of sensations he had never felt before. The hand that had been undoing his zipper had finally found its way inside his coat, and there it worked in tracing delicate swirls across his skin, while the other held him fast in its embrace. For every bit of pain he was dealt out equal, unwanted pleasure. Each wonderful discomfort was metered out with excruciating bliss. Vexen couldn't help but whimper, and relax, unable to stop his body from relenting to Marluxia's experienced demands. The pink-haired man knew far too well what he was doing.

"Can't you imagine how that boy must have felt around you, his attentive master? I bet he welcomed your guiding hand, looked forward to your enlightened word, or craved your gentle touch...I wonder how much you gave it to him."

"Marluxia, what are you..."

"Shh, Vexen. Let me do my work. I have my own Obedience Programming to impart upon you..."

The scientist's eyes widened at those words, pulling him out of his befuddlement. He tensed again, straining against fastly binding leaves and deceptively firm appendages, even more desperate to escape if there was any merit behind what he'd just been told. "Marluxia...! Stop...! Why are you doing this?"

"Pain obviously didn't teach you to submit to my command. I'm trying something better."

Before the scientist could even contemplate exactly what that line intended, Marluxia had caught up to him once more, pressing him down into the flower-covered mattress, much too easily shifting around him until he was trapped by the man's imposing form. The vines beneath them twisted, and curled, pinning Vexen's hands to where his pillow once had been. Shocked at how easily he had been puppeted, Vexen put all his strength into sitting up, quickly, trying to break free. Ice crackled, and leaves froze, and in the dim light of the room the scientist caught the puff of vapor as Marluxia breathed into the cold, and smirked, and suddenly attacked.

"Besides, dear Vexen...if this works on you, a scientist, a person who completely rejects physicality, then...who is left to stop me?"

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Riku woke, suddenly, and sat up straight in bed. The Darkness was still clawing at him from all sides, pulling at his skin and slipping in and out of him. His breath was coming heavily as his eyes struggled to focus, and the sheets were tangled fast around him, drenched in sweat and pulling him back towards the mattress like the webs of a spider drawing him down. Startled, he tore at them, and was even more surprised to find his hand still coated by the Darkness...no, his whole body, cloaked in that terrible suit that he was forced to wear. He didn't remember falling asleep under any covers, or in any bed, or surrounded by this wretched Darkness, and he didn't understand why it was he looked like _this_.

With a yelp he fell out of bed, and twisted, barely in time.

His feet hit the floor with the heavy thud of boots, and he staggered not to fall, before he was suddenly free of the mattress, and free of the sheets that he did not remember. Slowly, out of the corner of his eyes the shadows disappeared, the tattered remnants of his dream dropping back into his mind. There had been monsters, and demons, and he among them, running through the Darkness...sometimes killing his brethren, sometimes leaving them be...

And then a hand, reaching towards him, reaching to help him...blonde hair, green eyes...

Riku blinked, and the memory faded. Blonde hair...Namine?

But the eyes were wrong, and the feeling was wrong. This figure had been shrouded in Darkness, while the small frame of Namine was always sheltered by the light.

That damned light that always protected her, even better than he could.

Riku winced on that, and glanced down at his body, surprised to see that he hadn't yet changed back. Changing without being aware...changing while he was sleeping...that was bad. It was a sign, he feared, of how much the Darkness was starting to take over, of the fact that he couldn't yet be rid of Ansem. Maybe it was a sign of how unfit he was to care for _her_.

He closed his eyes, nonetheless, and willed it to go away. Willed his familiar yellow tank-top to appear, his familiar gloves, his familiar _skin_...and when he opened his eyes, it was with no small relief to see that he was back to normal. Namine had always accepted the darkness in him, even if he didn't, but he hated to think that he was really starting to lose control. If that ever happened...

Riku's stomach growled, sending a small shiver up and down his spine and banishing his thoughts of Darkness. His whole body felt strange, for that matter. Maybe changing in the night had thrown his equilibrium off, or messed with the balance of his nervous system or digestive system, or...something. Either way, he was hungry, and food was near.

But there were two doors in his room, and for the first time since he had started living there, he found he couldn't remember which one was the closet, and which one was the exit. The thought would have made him laugh, if it hadn't been so unnerving. He really _was_ starting to lose his mind, if he couldn't even figure out the layout of his room.

He chose a door, at random, letting his feet pick their own way, and was more than a little relieved when it led back into his kitchen. There were still the dirty dishes in the sink that he had left there, and there was his small fridge filled with snacks...although why there were eight different brands of hot-sauce, he couldn't quite recall.

So he had his breakfast, before his stomach could protest once more. The dream really was disorienting him, to the point that whatever he had planned for the day had faded back into his mind somewhere. Everything just felt...surreal. Yeah. Surreal. That was the word.

Well, it was no big deal to make new plans. Maybe he could go have a talk with Namine, and see if Marluxia wouldn't let her go for a walk with him. She didn't get out very much, so she would enjoy it, and Riku knew that he'd feel better after seeing her. It wouldn't be long now before Marluxia forgot that he was even there, and then, when that happened, he and Namine could break out of Castle Oblivion, and leave it as just a dark chapter behind them. He'd take her back to the beach, and they could sit in the sand, and she'd draw all the birds and he'd catch fish for her...

Maybe Sora would have made it back by then, too.

Riku sighed, and added another few dishes to the sink, contemplating whether or not he wanted to clean them now or not. The tingling in his spine had spread into his chest, and breakfast hadn't made it go away. Maybe he had trained too hard, the day before...

That had to be it! And that would explain why he didn't remember falling asleep, and why he had been in his Dark Form when he had woken. He must have worked to the point of almost collapsing, and teleported straight back into his bed.

A small stretch confirmed it, as sore muscles cried out in dull protest. He didn't remember getting all the bruises that he had, and the sore spot over one of his ribs was even more perplexing, but that seemed to be the theme of the morning. Apparently falling asleep in Dark Mode did that to you...screwed with your memories, maybe. Gave you nightmares, for sure.

But when he tried to open a portal, twice, and failed, Riku began to wonder what other ill effects it had. His arms and legs were tingling, and it was spreading to his feet, like his whole BODY had fallen asleep on him and was just now waking up. In general it was annoying, but he wasn't going to let something small like that stop him. If it didn't go away, he'd go see Lexaeus.

The third portal-attempt fired to life, finally, and he stepped in, letting himself be engulfed by the thickness of familiar darkness. Maybe it would be good if his control over the Dark was slipping. Maybe then, he could start to ignore it, completely.

If it didn't consume him entirely, that was.

Riku smirked, wryly amused. Looking at it from the outside was funny, but the actual event probably wouldn't be all that pleasant. No, he needed to remain in control. It was, after all, all he had left...

There was only Darkness, to protect the ones he loved.

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Vexen let himself sleep in.

Almost purposely, in fact.

It was no small celebration of the fact that he was just _alive_, let alone unsullied. Well, for the most part. As with any battle there was ground lost, and ground gained, whether it was tangible or not. Vexen had not _won_, by any means, but neither had he lost, leaving the war to drag on for at least another day. A day he would be prepared for, this time.

Being at war, fortunately, meant that there needn't be any pretense about attending those ridiculous meetings, especially ones that would be held without him even if he chose to arrive. He was not much closer to figuring out exactly what Marluxia's next step was, but he had the gist of it. There weren't too many possibilities for quickly capturing a keyblade bearer who was already inside your fortress, especially when the keyblade bearer in question was the dull-witted islander named 'Sora.'

Which meant there would not be much time left before the Gardener _succeeded_, and he needed to be stopped. Even without being completely sure of what betrayals Marluxia intended, the fact that he had pursued Vexen to this high of a degree meant that he was up to something, and that, somehow, the scientist had become a threat.

With Vexen's key component out of the picture, however, interfering in those plans was going to be difficult. RRiku was no longer able to listen to him, and, without Namine's assistance, it would take months to restore the boy back to a useable state. Months that Vexen certainly did _not_ have. He could not openly go to Sora, because that would be betraying Xemnas. For the same reasons, he could not openly attack Marluxia. The flowery nightmare of a man was prepared for such possibilities, at any rate. He had a three-strong army at his beck and call--the flamethrower, the lightning rod, and the witch. Even with Vexen's elemental advantage against Axel and Marluxia, they had a better physical aptitude and a more flowing knowledge of combat than his own rigidly defensive stance. Yet even should he try to appeal to their reasons, Larxene was too chaotic to approach, Axel was too cynical, and Namine...well, despite not having a heart, Namine was too afraid. The fact that she had already gained control of Sora to an extent only added another element to overcome.

Theoretically, Vexen might be able to enlist the help of Zexion and Lexaeus, if they even believed him, but that still was not enough to overthrow the threat. An all out battle between the numbers within Oblivion, should it come to that, might eliminate those who had done no real wrong, himself included. Besides, with only thirteen Nobodies to start off with, _any_ losses of valuable members were unacceptable losses. Vexen either needed backup, and a lot of it, to ensure the traitors would be eliminated, or he needed to undermine Marluxia's own strategy, completely.

The scientist sighed, lying back into his pillow and blinking at the ceiling up above. Plotting war-games was not his strong point. He had enough of a mind to be political, but in that regard he mirrored Master Ansem: doing what was necessary to keep his kingdom strong in daylight, and escaping to his labs and to his teachings when his outward job was done. It was always where their mentor had wanted to be.

Yet that had only gotten him banished to the Darkness.

Vexen smirked, just a little. If Master Ansem had only known what was going on beneath his nose, they might still all be back in Radiant Garden, enjoying a cushiony life of learning and inventing. But then again, if Master Ansem had known, and the six of them hadn't finished the experiments, they would not have discovered all of what they did. They would not be coming so close to achieving perfection now, of creating a world all of their own. If Master Ansem had known, he would have stopped them.

So then...what would Xemnas do, Vexen wondered, if he knew what was going on at Castle Oblivion? Would he turn a blind eye towards the situation, or learn from his old Master's mistakes, correcting the problem before it had begun?

The thought circled in the Nobody's brain, looping endlessly. If Xemnas knew, he could take the necessary precautions. Vexen certainly wasn't looking forward to contacting their leader, as one never knew what sort of business one might interrupt, but it was worth the shot. If his timing was off, and Xemnas was deeply mired within some thought that had possessed him, or expanding upon some new philosophy the worlds had revealed to him, or helping Xaldin with some revolutionary tactic to undermine a Kingdom's political structure, then Vexen would stand no chance. But if things were how they were back at Radiant Garden, _Even_ wouldn't have hesitated to consult with his fellow scientists if his own suppositions were failing him, and Xehanort would be more than willing to lend an ear. Sometimes, a second point of view was enough to solidify a theory.

And if not...well, Vexen would leave well enough alone. At least, then, he'd know that path was closed to him.

All he needed now was the courage to step out.

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"...Vexen." Xemnas actually looked surprised for once, or pretended to, as he glanced up from a pile of papers to watch as Vexen stepped inside his door. "It sounded like your knock, but I did not believe my ears."

"Do I knock differently?"

"Each one of you approaches me in a unique manner."

It was no surprise to see Xemnas at his desk, a library of books lined up on the towering wall behind him, an equally vaulted window to his side. It was as pristinely silver-white here as it was through most of the Organization's castle; Xemnas did not need to bother with purposefully molding his surroundings when they changed to suit his needs subconsciously. Perhaps that was why his bedroom doubled as his office: it was not for a lack of space as much as the fact that Xemnas simply didn't differentiate between work and relaxation. Whether he was planning what worlds to focus on or providing missions for their members, or sleeping, Xemnas was always moving towards his goal.

"How so, if I may be so bold?"

"Some enter my rooms with reverence, others with purpose. You, however, always knock...with a question."

He had changed, quite a bit, from the almost timid Xehanort whom Even had known. This man before him was a freight train, filled with power and momentum, unstoppable, unwavering, and relentless. "You always seem to have an answer, these days."

"Answers are easy to give. Choosing the right one is the difficult part."

Vexen almost smirked. Even with the control that Xemnas had gained, there were still things that were a little off about him. Answers, for example, were meant to be sought or discovered, not chosen randomly out of thin air, and yet solving problems had always been that way for Xemnas. Maybe it was truly how life worked, for him...a set of answers, waiting for his call. "Then I've got quite a conundrum for you."

"By all means, enlighten me."

Xemnas sat back in his chair and met Vexen's eyes directly, scientist-to-scientist instead of leader-to-disciple, at least for now. Which was exactly what Vexen needed, to begin.

"Let us say, theoretically, that an obstacle has been placed within your path to Kingdom Hearts. A very large boulder, perhaps, in this allegory. You would find a way to displace it, correct?"

"This is correct."

"Through what method?"

Xemnas crossed his hands together, glancing down to his table for the merest of moments, to think, before fixing his eyes back onto Vexen's. "...assuming that the boulder is much too heavy to be relocated, and that I was not in proximity to adequate tools, I would seek a different path."

"Would you try to destroy the boulder, if you had the means?" Raising an eyebrow, Vexen carefully listened for this next reply.

Xemnas was unwavering, and his answer took no thought, this time. "Provided that this 'boulder' is not a reference to Lexaeus, I would."

"No, it's not Lexaeus." Vexen nodded. "But this boulder does require your assistance to subvert."

"You're referring to Marluxia." Xemnas blinked, and stood. "Are you not?"

Now Vexen was surprised, wondering how he had been read so easily. He had certainly not expected that quick a leap to the conclusion, nor had he expected Xemnas to stand up, leaving him to wonder what the Superior's view of the situation actually _was_. But knowing as little as he did, Vexen could do nothing more than state the obvious: "Yes. I am."

"I see." Xemnas quietly left his desk, walking towards the towering window alone, leaving Vexen standing awkwardly in the center of the room. "But, Vexen. I have already sent someone capable of dealing with the problem. Has he not been performing as I expected?" The silver-haired man glanced back over his shoulder questioningly, and, without hesitation, Vexen followed.

"...I'm afraid I do not know which Nobody you speak of. Zexion and Lexaeus rarely leave the basement, and Marluxia has Axel and Larxene under his command--"

"You're forgetting someone."

"Surely you can't mean Namine?"

"No, Vexen. I'm referring to yourself."

Vexen stopped in his tracks, stunned, able to do nothing but watch his Superior step into the heartlight of their slowly growing moon.

"You are more than capable, and you are absolutely loyal to our goals...not derived necessarily from loyalty to me, but because you yourself also desire Kingdom Hearts. In specific, you wish for Kingdom Hearts to be a world ruled by logic and rationality, just as I do. You have kept your intentions pure from the start; this all is, even now, still one vast experiment to you. But there is more..." Xemnas put his hand up to the glass, looking out at the sky, his gaze vague and yet intent upon what hung there. He never seemed conscious of how theatrical his movements were, but that was partly what sent a shiver down Vexen's spine. It wasn't mere dramatics with Xemnas...each gesture had a purpose, a meaning...each held the weight of his entire self behind them.

"You have a careful mind, Vexen. Your intelligence stems from your diligence, your patience, and your precision. You do not have leaps of insight, but there are very intentional steps of genius. We were always most different, in this regard."

"I remember," Vexen whispered. "How furious I would become that your theories worked when mine failed, and that you had no documented evidence as to why."

"Yet each time this happened, you would lock yourself inside the lab until your results were equivalent to mine. The same conclusions were always reached, between us, and made stronger by your support."

"I began to believe your findings, without becoming as upset."

"And I started to rely on your backup. Do you see where I am going with this, Vexen?"

Xemnas glanced back to where the blonde was standing, his orange eyes made even more intense when shadowed by the moon.

"You trust me." Vexen replied, quietly, looking away. It gave him much to consider now about how close, in theory, their destinies might have been. "You need me." Folding his arms, Vexen realized Xemnas's implication. The reason that the scientist was now stationed at Castle Oblivion was not because Xemnas had been trying to keep him far away - rather, it was because that was where Vexen _had_ to be, to keep an eye on things. Not just to keep an eye on things, either, but to make sure that the plans were proceeding as _Xemnas_ would have envisioned them...because only _Vexen_ knew exactly how that _was_...only _Even_ had been that close to Xehanort, before.

"I do. And as such, I believe you will take care of any problems that arise."

"If you thought he might be a problem, then why did you put him in charge?"

Xemnas glanced away, finally, and took his hand off of the windowpane. "I..." He began, and then ceased, lapsing into silence and staring at his reflection in the glass. "...foresaw one of two possibilities." With a small shake of his head, he resumed. "That Marluxia's peculiar power would be used to all our benefits...or that it would turn sour, in time, and be used for something else."

He said no more, leaving an awkward moment between them, before Xemnas finally turned, and fully faced the other man.

"Marluxia must be stopped, before he has gone too far. In this circumstance, I cannot accept any failure, and I have no other resources to offer. I have put my trust in you, because I know that you are capable. Do not disappoint me, Vexen. I want to hear no more about this until it is complete."

"..." Vexen nodded, barely daring to breathe under the intensity of the Superior's gaze. There was something in Xemnas' eyes that spoke of more than what was apparent...that this had, somehow, became a sensitive matter...that Xemnas had not wanted to see Marluxia fall. He had dared to put his trust in something that did not pull through...

And, suddenly, Vexen realized that was why _he_ was in this position now. Xemnas had to know who he could trust, and who was capable.

If Vexen was not able to solve this situation, then he would be no good to Xemnas. Vexen could not afford, now, to become useless.

"Do not fail." Xemnas stated, one final time...peering out at Vexen with a mixture of hope and uncertainty and longing, hiding beneath his immensity and yet _there_, not wanting to be betrayed. For a moment, it was like looking in the eyes of Xehanort...and then, for an even briefer moment, Vexen saw another pair of eyes mirrored there--younger, and blue-green, before the image was gone.

He had no option of failing.

There were two silver-haired boys counting on him, now.

With a wry smirk Vexen nodded, and bowed his head. "You think I can do it, so it shall be done. You won't hear about my failure." He turned, and headed for the door.

"Not from anyone."

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**Notes:**

September 16, 2007:

Never thought I'd get this one done, but here it is. As often seems the case, life interfered, and this got on the back-burner, only to be resurrected when the time was right. As a plus, however, it's had gads of time to be re-edited, and edited it has been, making it probably my best chapter yet. Hard to say at this point, though, since I've been staring at it far too long.

Chapter 4 is started, though it'll likely take a while. Not so long as this one, though, so stick around, and thanks so much for all of the reviews! Special thanks to Itavita for finding some italics that I missed, as well.

See you soon!

**Bloopers: **

3.1: "But with no hearts to connect, must there exist some other form of connection? If it was the soul, then where did RRiku's soul come from? Had Vexen made it? Was he...a god? It had to be so."

3.1: Deleted paragraph. "And, by his own means, to assure RRiku's utter cooperation, Vexen had connected i himself /i to RRiku. Their shared memories rested therein, even now. Yet RRiku's heart had been dismantled, and was inaccessible to either of them, now. It must have been something else...some other intangible organ. Which left only one other possibility. Their kidneys."

3.2: There are also some deleted scenes and additional commentary here, for those that wish to delve a little further into Vexen and Marluxia: http://community. livejournal. com/frostedflowers/57175. html (Remove spaces)


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